Skip to main content

Full text of "Wellesley magazine"

See other formats


XKHelleele^ /iDagasine 


Hamlet and Faust: A Compabison . . Martha P. Conant, '90 . . . 283 

Chauceb Mary Hollands McLean . . 292 

TTnivebsity Education fob Women in Gee- 
many Br. Helen L. Webster . . . 292 

Scene fbom a Novel Pobtbaying the Chab- 

acteb of the Heboine .... Gertrude Parker Spalding, '92 . 294 

The Soul's Kiss Maude Thompson .... 301 

A Commonplace Tale M. Gertrude Wilson, '95 . . 301 

Sailing Dorothy Allen .... 304 

The Little Sentinel . . . . . Agnes L. Caldwell, '96 . . . 304 

Day Dbeams Frances A. Young, '97 . . . 309 

The Stoby of a Stoey Blanche Baker Field, '92 . . 310 

In a Cypbess Swamp Geneva Crumb, '97 ... 314 

A Society Event Margaret Young Henry, '97 . 315 

Lullaby Emily 8. Johnson, '97 . . . 316 

Alumnae Eepeesentation on the Boabd of 

Tbustees of Wellesley College . . Ellen L. Burrell, '80 . . . 316 

Editobials 320 

Fbee Pbess 322 

Exchanges 327 

Book Review 330 

Books Received 330 

Society Notes 331 

College Bulletin 332 

College Notes 333 

Alumnae Notes 335 

Maebied 340 

Died 340 

Doi. tn — flfoarcb, 1895 — ma 6 

Entered in the Post Office at Wellesley, Mass., as second-class matter. 

Tlffllf GBEDITS . . . 



Available in all countries, issued on 


Exchange bought and sold on LONDON, LIVERPOOL, 


50 State St., Boston. 



Agents and Attorneys. 

Like the sweet story of Love, 
Old, but ever New ! 


Old in experience, but 
ever new in methods 
and facilities. 



Established in 1829. 

Largest in America. 

17 Temple Place, 284 Boylston Street, 


Dresses dyed or cleansed whole. 'Laces, gloves, 
and'feathers cleansed or dyed. 



Opposite Railroad Station, Wellesley. 

Flowers and Plants of the choicest varieties for all 
occasions; Palms, etc., to let for decoration. 

FLOWERS carefully packed and forwarded 
by Mail or Express to all parts of the United 
States and Canada. 

4ES" Orders by mail or otherwise promptly attended to . 
Connected by Telephone. 

The Fisk Teachers' Agencies. 

EVERETT 0. FISK & CO., Proprietors. 

4 Ashburton Place, Boston, Mass. 
70 Fifth Avenue, New York, N. Y. 
S03 12th Street, Washington, D. C. 
355 Wabash Avenue, Chicago, 111. 
32 Church Street, Toronto, Can. 
Century Building, Minneapolis, Minn. 
Olympia, Washington. 
120% S. Spring Street, Los Angeles, Cal. 

Correspondence with employers is invited. 
Registration forms sent to teachers on application. 


ok Every description. 

The latest in style, best in quality, at 
moderate prices. 

Gymnasium shoes of all kinds at low 

Special discount to Wellesley students 
and teachers. 

Hapr, Well & Hom 


The Wellesley Magazine. 

Vol. III. WELLESLEY, MARCH 9, 1895. No. 6. 









The Wellesley Magazine is published monthly, from October to June, by a board of editors 
chosen from the Senior Class. 

All literary contributions may be sent to Miss M. G. Caldwell, Wellesley College, Wellesley, Mass. 

All items of college interest, and communications to be inserted in the department of Free Press,, 
■will be received by Miss Sarah C. Weed, Wellesley College, Wellesley, Mass. 

All alumnae news should be sent to Miss Maude R. Keller, Wellesley, Mass. 

Advertising business is conducted by Miss Elizabeth A. Stark, Wellesley College, Wellesley, Mass. 

Subscriptions to the Magazine and other business communications should in all cases be sent to 
Miss Alethea Ledyard, Wellesley College, Wellesley, Mass. 

Terms, $2.00 per year; single copies, 25 cents. Payment should be made by money order. 


Goethe has said that every noble human being owes his education to 
the influence of his Fatherland and of the World. This points to one reason 
why Goethe's philosophy of life harmonizes in many points with Shakspere's. 
The ' ' Vaterland " of Goethe and the Fatherland of Shakspere are closely 
akin, and to both poets belongs deep thought concerning the problems of 
life, together with a passionate intensity in struggling with those problems ; 
a realization of the facts of failure, of doubt, of evil, and of the equally true 
facts of nobility, of positive spirituality. 

"Fatherland and World," said Goethe, and of both men is it true that 
they were " not of an age, but for all time." 

" Faust " and " Hamlet," each the expression of the deepest psychology 
of its poet-creator, will probably always have, from their very depth of 
mystery, a fascination for the soul. With the feeling that, as Dovvden says, 
it is good simply to stand in the presence of such mysteries, let us draw a 
little nearer to these dramas. 


The indictment the practical world brings against Hamlet is this : he 
left undone the things he ought to have done, neglecting to execute prompt 
justice on the king, to do his duty toward his mother and toward his 
kingdom, neglecting in a word active, practical work; he wasted his time in 
vain speculations, and caused the death of at least six people before executing 
tardy vengeance on the one ; in short, that the algebraic sum of the results 
was minus and not plus, evil and not good. 

A defense of Hamlet is best suggested by the lines : — 

" Not on the vulgar mass, 
Called 'work,' must sentence pass." 


"All instincts immature, 
All purposes unsure, 
That weighed not as his work, yet swelled the man's amount. 
Thoughts hardly to be packed 
Into a narrow act 
Fancies that broke through language and escaped. 
All I could never be, 
All men ignored in me, 
This, I was worth to God, whose wheel the pitcher shaped." 

Hamlet would be the last to deny the main counts in the indictment. 
He says himself that he is "a too precise thinker," a coward, but also says, 
*' You would pluck out the heart of my mystery," when you do not " know 
my stops"; and Hamlet's lawyer would say, "You do not consider the 
extenuating circumstances of the environment and character of the defendant." 

In what circumstances do we find Hamlet? The curtain rises, Act I., 
scene 2, on a room of state, gorgeous with rich tapestries and brilliant with 
light. Enter the king and queen in royal scarlet, followed by a rustling bevy 
of gay courtiers. In the midst is the one black figure whose thoughtful, 
sensitive, troubled face tells more plainly than words, "I have that within 
that passeth show." In practical experience, if not in years, Hamlet was a 
young man. He was a prince who had been dependent on the absolute 
authority of a father, wise, strong, respected. He had just returned from 
university self-culture, and still wore the student habit of brooding specula- 
tion. And as he came out into the glare of the palpably insincere, flippant, 
or wicked court life, with the hasty generalization of a young man, he cried, 
' ' All the uses of this world are weary ! " 


Hamlet's is essentially an artist nature. More than his meditative mind, 
more than his melancholy, do we see by his first soliloquy the deep shiver 
of his soul at the moral ugliness of the life which has so suddenly confronted 
him. Where is the beauty of the Hyperion king, of the Queen whose love 
had seemed so real and sweet? The king's place is filled by a satyr. The 
Queen's love had been a weak lie. The ghost confirms Hamlet's prophetic 
soul, Ophelia fails his test, he himself may be on a par, " an arrant rogue." 

To Hamlet in this mood, hopeless, disenchanted, skeptical, comes the 
summons to do a positive act, the best possible cure for melancholy. His 
first impulse is "Haste to revenge." To kill his uncle he regards as a 
sacred duty, though he doubts the perfect conscience of it. We respect him 
the more for this scruple, although it is by no means a sufficient excuse in 
his eyes or in those of his time for his hesitation. In that cold midnight, 
on the dreadful summit of the cliff, when even the calm Horatio is excited, 
we see Hamlet revealed in the throbbing air of the superstition of the age, 
with his half-formed suspicions ; his anger at the uncle who had " popped in 
between th' election and his hopes"; his grief at his father's death, and his 
deeper grief at his mother's sin. No wonder his hysterical replies seem the 
whirling words of a madman. 

The question of Hamlet's sanity will probably always be debated ; but 
to me Hamlet is sane, though he lacks the strength of will and practical 
sense to balance his intense nervous force. 

After the darkness of that night had passed into the light of common 
day, it seemed only reasonable to desire more proof than the word of a 
ghost. What sensible man would not? He proves his doubt away by an 
admirably skilful test of the king. Now comes his great opportunity ; 
Hamlet finds the king alone. " Now I might do it pat, now he is praying, 
and now I'll do it." But he stops to think, — a fatal hindrance to instant 
action. The desire for perfection of revenge completes his hesitation. 
His imagination is fired, and conceives the frightfully exquisite plan of taking 
the king not when his soul is fit to die, but when he is " in some act that 
hath no relish of salvation in it." " Then trip him that his heels may kick 
at heaven." 

This scene has been rightly called the climax of the drama, for it shows 
Hamlet both in the weakness of inaction, and in the strength of potential 
action, missing his unit but aiming at his million. 


Goethe's view of Hamlet's character, that the keynote was an uncon- 
querable weakness of the will ; Victor Hugo's, that Hamlet was all skepticism 
and nebulous intellect; or Swinburne's hot defense that in Hamlet was no 
weak hesitation, but rather a strong conflux of contending forces, seem each 
to need the element of truth contained in the others. 

There is the fact of Hamlet's weakness, of his skepticism, but the fact 
of the strong conflux of contending forces is equally true. Is it not with 
Hamlet as with Shakspere's other heroes, out of whose very strength came 
their weakness ? Out of the richness of Antony's nature came his self-ex- 
travagance ; out of Othello's depth of passion came his agony of doubt ; 
and so, out of Hamlet's conflict of great forces came what Coleridge has 
called " hopeless equilibrium." From his " godlike reason" came vacillat- 
ing speculation ; from his intense longing for truth, and fine artistic sense, 
came a keen critical power — witness the scene with the players — but his 
energy lost itself in the delights of sarcasm and the pleasures of melancholy. 
His abilities were dwarfed by the very height of his ideals. And yet, not- 
withstanding his faults, which certainly " leave a stain upon the beauty of 
all parts beside," there is a magic in Hamlet's personality, a suggested 
nobility, which charms more than the faultlessness of a lesser man. 

But let us pass from the shadow of death over the Danish court to the 
darker shadow of despair over the Gothic chamber of Faust. 

The dreams of his youth to teach mankind and to know truth are proved 
empty. The fascinating study of magic has brought him great visions, but 
they are only visions. How can he put himself into harmony with infinite 
Nature and drink of the springs of life? Only the agony of thirst is his. 
By a supreme effort of the will Faust summons the Earth spirit, yet when 
the awful, flaming countenance appears, Faust feels his human limitations 
and hides his face. The thought of suicide, of the possible new day after 
death, thrills him with sudden joy. But the clear Easter carol reminds him 
of his childhood's faith, and holds him back to earth. 

Such is the Faust of the first great monologue ; a Titan figure, eager to 
storm the highest heaven of truth, yet capable of divinely strong despair. 
A man first of all spiritual, a dreamer of dreams, a seer of visions, he feels 
to the very depth of his soul that this universe has a spiritual meaning, but, 
with equal intensity, he feels himself hopelessly groping in the prison dark- 


ness of a dry, material world. And his is not the impatience of a mere 
dreamer, nor is it the despair of a literal pedant. For ten years Faust has 
been a teacher. He has seen the petty grubbing in the dust of the Wagner 
natures around him ; he knows that his way of working is more at one with 
spirit truth, and yet he is a "poor fool" in his own opinion. He longs to 
touch infinite Nature, but his craving is in vain. 

It is as if his intense feelings, pent up for so long, rush forth in a flood, 
and he stands there in the darkness, a lonely man, sick at heart, yet fearless ; 
not knowing whither to turn, yet turning with the quick decision of a strong 
will to the free, moonlit country, to the Earth spirit, to the thought of 
death. A very human man is this Faust; a soul able to suffer, and capable 
of joy ; a man so spiritual that he rises to the cloudy heights of mysticism, 
and yet so warmly human that his chief need, a need of which he is as yet 
unconscious, is life among human beings, the surest path to the sight of the 
truth he craves. 

To Faust at the moment of his bitterest impatience comes Mephisto, 
fascinating in his cleverness ; Mephisto, that mocking, brilliant, sarcastic mis- 
chief-maker, who, like Iago, with a sneering, thin-lipped smile of skepticism 
at goodness or beauty, loves to plan far-reaching evil. Faust's pessimistic 
mood is craftily worked upon, until he declares that if ever the moment 
comes when he shall find life satisfying, Mephisto shall be his master and no 
longer his servant. Even here Faust shows his positive nature, unsatisfied 
except with completeness, not this time of truth, but of life. He wills to feel 
the depths of pain as well as the heights of pleasure, to go to wrack and ruin 
with the rest of mankind. Mephisto fears the spiritual tendency of this 
feeling, but hopes to blind the reasoning soul of Faust in a maze of lies and 
sensual pleasures. 

So Faust drops the Doctor's robes for a gentleman's doublet, drinks the 
magic draught of youth, and lets Mephisto spread the magic mantle to bear 
them away from the dark study out into life. The rollicking student carouse 
in Auerbach's Keller absolutely fails to entice Faust, so Mephisto shows him 
the picture of a beautiful woman, hoping to arouse passion. Faust sees 
beauty for the first time, and his poet soul is entranced before " the heavenly 

And then to the young Faust comes the sight of Margarethe. In his 


soul, just stirring into new life, with the new feeling for beauty and love, the 
spark dropped by Mephisto to burn Faust's spirit to ashes, flames up into 
the strong fire of passionate love, lawless but yet so pure and real that 
through joy and pain it purifies both Faust's soul and Margarethe's. For 
the Margarethe-Tragedy is a triumph of love over sin, of goodness over 
evil, though at the bitter cost of suffering and death. The strong, sweet, 
simple language of their love is unprofitable chatter to Mephisto, as unintel- 
ligible as is the power and spirituality of love itself. Margaret will not 
hearken to Faust's plea to escape from prison and from the accusations of 
her conscience. This voluntary expiation raises her far above Faust in 
moral power. Her strength gives strength to him, and though he vanishes 
from the dungeon (end Part I.) with Mephisto, he hears Margaret's voice 
still ringing in his ears till it finally calls him to her in heaven. 

Part II. opens with Faust's magnificent apostrophe to the sunrise and 
the rainbow, and his resolve to strive toward perfect life. 

The Faust Saga story of Helen of Troy receives from Goethe new, rich 
meaning. Faust's long seeking and final union with Helen typifies the self- 
culture of his spirit through the Greek ideals of beauty. From this mysti- 
cal dream Faust turns to put his culture to the practical test of usefulness, 
and on his death-day he is seen old, blind, careworn, but eagerly working to 
guide his little kingdom and beholding in vision a free people in a free coun- 
try. The thought that his work has helped toward that result fills him with 
absolute peace, and the angels bear his soul away from Mephisto. 

Such is a faint suggestion of Goethe's wonderful poem. The populai* 
accumulation of soul-harrowing stories about the magician Dr. Faustus 
grew, under the genius of Goethe, into a drama in which the hero is the 
soul of man, the action a lifelong struggle between the godlike and the 
devilish, between the soul of Faust and his own evil tendencies personified 
in Mephisto ; the motive force, Faust's soul hunger ; the enveloping action, 
nothing less than the mighty workings of the universe itself, with God and 
his great archangels as the cloud of witnesses. 

It is this warm, real humanity of Faust that quickens the sympathy of 
even the least of us who has known what it is to question, to strive, to sin r 
to suffer, and who, perhaps, finds in Faust the expression of one's own 
dumb half-formed feelings. We stand face to face with his soul, and it 


speaks to us and for us in words whose depth of meaning we may not fathom, 
but which have the same mighty, inexplicable charm as the rolling thunder 
of an organ. 

This musiclike, spiritual quality is to me the essential likeness between 
Faust and Hamlet. In artistic form and coloring the two dramas are strik- 
ingly different ; a German poem on a Folk-story, whose hero is a German 
Doctor of Philosophy, whose characters include a Mephisto, a Margaret, vil- 
lagers, nobles, witches, allegorical figures, the spirit of Helen of Troy, the 
Virgin Mary, God, and the archangels; whose coloring is mediaeval, mysti- 
cal ; whose language is poetry of all forms, from the doggerel from 
Mephisto's sarcastic lips to the great soliloquies of Faust, or the lyrical love 
songs of Margarethe ; whose philosophy is that of a poet standing on the 
heights between the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, — what has this in 
common with that chapter from Danish history into which Shakspere 
breathed the breath of English sixteenth century life? 

However different these dramas, we recognize a kinship between the 

two heroes. Both Hamlet and Faust are philosophers. Each might say 

with Omar Khayyam, — 

" I sent my soul through the invisible 
Some letter of that After-life to spell." 

Both are scholars learned in all that books can give, and the lonely Hamlet 
could with truth have echoed the lonely Faust's despairing cry: "There I 
stand, poor fool, no whit wiser than before ! " Both have the scholar's fault, 
introspection, with its accompanying selfishness. Both cause sin, sorrow, 
and death. Both can suffer and can love, and both have, to an infinite de- 
gree, the hunger and thirst after the noble, the true, the divine. 

But what is then the factor which distinguishes the Faust personality 
from the Hamlet? Briefly it is this. In Faust, will power controls the 
intellect ; in Hamlet, conscience is controled by the intellect. The theme of 
Faust might be his words in answer to Mephisto's slippery persuasiveness, 
" But I will ! " Hence Faust is a man of action, his will must find expression 
in striving, fighting, doing something, and his soul finds relief and gathers 
strength ; while Hamlet's battles are too often fought only in his soul. 

But, one may say, how different the circumstances around Faust and 
Hamlet ! Suppose Faust had been plunged into that cold, discouraging 


atmosphere of guilt? Xo wonder that Hamlet's conscience was cut to the 
quick, and that the world, besides being a mystery, seemed all false, wrong, 
and wicked. 

To Faust the world seemed under an inexplicable, driving force. 
Hamlet felt the need, not so much of attaining abstract truths of life and 
death, as a craving for applied truth, for honesty and nobility in people. He 
sought it in Ophelia, and she, for all her loveliness and gentle affection, 
shrank away from him in terror, and answered his bitter longing with a lie. 
If Ophelia's was not the perfect love that casteth out fear, neither was 
Hamlet's the perfect love that forgetteth self. To his feverishly critical 
conscience the great ideal love, perfect in sympathy and in mutual strength- 
giving, seemed far above them, and he could truly say, " I never loved you." 

Hamlet was thus more alone than Faust; true, he had Horatio, a loyal 
friend, but too cool, too cautious. Horatio calmed the hot Hamlet, but did 
not rouse him to sensible action. Hamlet was alone. He lacked what Faust 
had, the redeeming love of woman. Margarethe was no perfectly innocent 
child, no absolute angel, but a very human girl, who loved Faust with her 
whole heart. Contrast her song at the spinning wheel, that untranslatable, 
beautiful, passionate 

" Meine Rah ist hin, mem Herz ist sckwer !" 
with Ophelia's "I of ladies most deject and wretched." Ophelia's is a 
delicate, sweet, pathetic lament, but goes no farther than the externalities of 
love, and is entirely lacking in the simple, intense sorrow of Margaret's cry. 
Ophelia could only be crushed by Hamlet's harshness, and her father's death. 
Margarethe grew into the large wisdom of womanly love, until she could by 
sheer moral power resist Faust's strong pleading, could die a voluntary 
death, and thus help Faust to realize the necessity of suffering, and the 
possibility of rising above and away from Mephisto. 

Different in character, different in circumstances, the third great difference 
points to a difference between Shakspere and Goethe. I refer to the con- 
clusion. Hamlet ends in silence, Faust in a song; Hamlet in death, Faust 
in a vision of heaven. In Hamlet only tentative theorizing, no deductions, 
no prophecy of that country which Shakspere calls "undiscovered ;" simply 
the fact, "the presence of the vast mystery of death," which each human 
soul may interpret as he can, with faith, with despair, or with "silence." 


"Hamlet" belongs to the period of Shakspere's development when 
the darkness, the tragedy, the mystery of life were the supreme realities to 
him. When Shakspere wrote Hamlet, he could write no Part II., perhaps 
from the same reason that Goethe, on finishing the Margarethe tragedy 
which closes Part I. left "Faust" untouched until his seventy-fifth year. 

The close of the Second Part of "Faust" is a song of hope 
and faith from the lips of an old man ; of faith in the enduring life 
of all that is noble and divine in man. "Lofty designs must close 
in like effects." Goethe tells us that soul-death is impossible to a 
spirit like Faust's, who wills to live, who craves perfectness of truth and 
life ; that a man who strives, although he makes weak, or pitiful, or 
wilfully selfish mistakes, though he cause sin and suffering, nevertheless 
shall see the fulfillment of his vision, shall find the first truth of life in un- 
selfish love for mankind, and shall gain eternal salvation in eternal growth 
toward the fulness of truth and love. 

"Das Ewig Weibliche zieht uns heran! " 

But in Hamlet does this cold, severe fact of death leave us completely 
despairing? The Hamlet of Shakspere is essentially a finely attuned, noble, 
striving soul, and on this fact of his nobility, Shakspere dwells with even 
greater emphasis than on the fact of his shortcomings and death. As we 
leave the play, it is with an uplifted, purified, as well as sobered spirit, and 
with that question so often asked in the presence of death, " Can it be pos- 
sible, that to such a soul, this life is all ?" 

Surely Shakspere had much of the Hamlet soul in himself, just as 
Faust in one sense was Goethe. What parallel to the calm, bright, lofty 
poet philosophy of Faust-Goethe the old man, have we in Shakspere's 
■dramas? Where but in Prospero? of whom Dowden says, " Prospero is a 
harmonious and fully developed will." The great truth which Faust attains 
that " the true freedom of man consists in service," is the final conclusion of 
Prospero, and Shakspere has added the brother truth of godlike forgiveness. 

So if the minor Hamlet motif in Shakspere's soul could develop and blend 
into the grand, strong major of the Prospero music, may we not feel that in 
Hamlet were the beginning, the strength of the potential action of " a God, 
tho' in the germ ;" and that Goethe's conclusion is only reasonable and 
logical, that to a soul like Faust, the inevitable future is not death, but 
endless life. Martha P. Conant, '90. 



A stately lady's fair-haired little page; 

A " yong squyer," who rideth with a king; 
A poet taught of love and grief to sing 

In sad strain and in sweet; whose heritage 
Groweth the richer with increasing age, 

Till gladness, born of many dawns in spring, 
Fills all his soul, and merry notes outring 

Along the road he fares on pilgrimage. 

O blithest spirit of our English song! 

Down the far centuries floats thy happy lay 
Untinged with cruel strife and restless pain ; 

Like a bird's carol, fresh, and free, and strong, 
It lifts its praise for life, and love, and May 

That blooms in sunshine after April rain. 

Maky Hollands McLean, 


The spirit of progress is abroad. Not only on our own side of the 
Atlantic, but also across the sea, we note the result of its beneficent work- 
ing in behalf of womankind. 

That the idea of allowing women to share the privilege of studying and 
even of teaching in the university is not a new one, history shows; for in 
the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries women were from time to time 
enrolled both as students and professors in the great and flourishing univer- 
sities of Padua and Bologna. But the idea lay dormant for several 
centuries, and the progress of the present age lies in reviving and more 
fully developing an idea that in the distant past was intermittent in its 
manifestation, and confined to a single locality, and in converting it into a 
universal and permanent reality. 

In this revival, France and Switzerland led. Since the early sixties of 
our century the French and Swiss universities have offered to women all the 
privileges of study which men enjoy, and have conferred upon them the 
same degrees. Zurich University took one step farther in advance in 
permitting a woman, Fran Doctor Kempin-Spyri, to conduct a course in its 
faculty of law. 


The Universities of Holland, Belgium, Denmark, Sweden, Norway, 
Finland, and Iceland have one after the other granted to women, more or 
less completely, the privileges which are conferred on men. 

Germanjs lagging behind her sister nations, now at length, at the close 
of the nineteenth century, awakens, and joins the onward movement of the 

The University of Heidelberg has just opened its doors to women ; and 
in Berlin, Leipzig, Munich and Carlsruhe, gymnasia have been established 
to prepare women for university studies. In the autumn of 1894, the 
University of Gottingen admitted women. In order to enter classes the 
permission not only of the professors who give the courses which one desires 
to take, but also of the Minister of Culture, has to be obtained. The latest 
reports from Germany bring the stimulating news that six women, having 
obtained the necessary peirnissions from the Minister of Culture and the 
professors, are attending lectures in the University of Berlin ; among the 
subjects which these women are studying are Mathematics, with Professor 
Fuchs, History of Literature with Erich Schmidt and Ludwig Geiger, 
Botany with Schwendener, and the Philosophy of Language with Steinthal. 
Some twenty years ago, the University of Leipzig tried the experiment of 
admitting a few women to various courses, as "listeners," but for some 
reason the authorities looked upon the experiment as a failure, and with- 
drew the official permission ; nevertheless it has happened from time to 
time since then, that women have been unofficially allowed, through the 
courtesy of individual professors, to attend lectures. 

In Berlin, then, and Heidelberg and Gottingen, women may pursue 
their studies, and by the grace of individual professors " may be tolerated" 
at Leipzig. All these institutions offer instruction in all the main branches 
of learning — in medicine, law, theology, philosophy, and science. One needs 
only to refer to the Anzeigen of the various universities, as given at the 
beginning of each semester, in the " Litterarisches Centralblatt," to see 
what a vast variety of subjects one has to choose from. 

The method of instruction in the German universities, as indeed in 
most of the European universities, is the two-fold one of lectures and 
seminaries. The seminaries are somewhat like our class-room exercises in 
which the professor questions and the students answer, or else one of the 


students lectures upon a subject assigned him, while his colleagues criticise, 
to all of which the professor finally adds his criticism. 

The aim of the University methods is in the main to advance the 
interests of science. The charter of the University of Zurich declares that 
the aim of the University is "partly to increase the sum of knowledge, partly 
to further the interests of church and state through higher scientific culture 
of professions." " To increase the sum of knowledge " seems to be the climax 
of endeavor in the realm of learning. 

In order to extend the border lines of the known into the unknown, 
one must first find where this limit lies ; one of the purposes, therefore, 
which the University lectures serve, is that of putting the student in the 
way of finding this limit. Not only does the student need to know where 
lies the limit of that which is already known in any given subject, but he 
needs to know how to proceed from that point. It would be an invaluable 
assistance to the beginner in the field of investigation, if more were done than 
is ordinarily attempted to guide his first flights into the unknown. Some 
direct instruction in the principles of scientific method might to good ad- 
vantage be included among the courses offered in every institution of higher 

Helen L. Webster. 




Mildred Crane is the daughter of a poor country minister, from whom 
she inherits a fine mind, while from her mother she possesses an extravagant 
love for all forms of art and beauty. This aesthetic nature is starved in 
every way by the poverty and narrowing influences thrown around her. 
Her education is not that of the ordinary child, but such an one as a clergy- 
man, not of the most advanced type, and shut away from the broadening 
influence of city life, in a country village, would be able to give in the busy 
moments spared from parish work. Yet it was thorough and severe as far 
as it went. Mildred's mother was the order of woman which often attracts a 
scholarly man of Mr. Crane's type, — a pretty, dainty, pleasure-loving little 


woman, with a passion for all forms of beauty. After her marriage she had 
been obliged to give up her desires along this line. The result was that 
when Mildred was born later in her mother's married life, she had developed 
into a narrow, and, except for her love for her husband, a discontented 
woman. In Mildred all the mother's passionate desire after a freer and more 
beautiful life seemed to be reproduced ; it was as if the real life and longings 
of the woman, crushed so long, had taken revenge and sprung into fuller 
and stronger life in the child. 

The girl spent the first twenty years of her life in a vain attempt to 
adjust her nature to her surroundings. After the death of her parents, how- 
ever, she is transported into a new world. Through friends of her father's 
a life of broader culture and contact with intellectual and beauty-loving 
people lies open to her. She enters it with an abandon which is the reaction 
against her former life. Among the people she meets is a brilliant young 
lawyer, Kenyon Howe, — a man who gives every evidence of having a future 
open to him, but hampered at this time by financial embarrassment. He 
falls in love with Mildred and offers himself to her. The following scene 
takes place the day after Kenyon Howe proposes to Mildred, and is awaiting 
his answer : — 


" Mildred," said Margaret Clay, as she watched her friend put the 
finishing touches to her pretty brown hair, "aren't you getting to be a 
mammon worshipper? That is certainly the third new gown I've seen you 
wear since Easter." 

Mildred adjusted the last hairpin, and smiled at Margaret in the glass 
before she answered, saying: "Not exactly that, my dear, though I do like 
pretty things ; yet there's nothing I so thoroughly detest as a mammon 
worshipper. I don't care for money except that it gives me all I want." 

Mildred uttered this remark as if it were an entirely unique and original 
manner of regarding the "necessary wherewithal"; it was only when she 
saw the amused smile on her friend's face that she added : "Don't laugh at 
me, Margie, even if my remark was inane. I really don't care for pretty 
things just for themselves, — I think they make us better; now I feel ever 
so much sweeter and more amiable when I know I look well. But this is 


the last new gown, for there's :i water color of Crane's I want, — one of 
those soft, sweet, spring scenes, all .in soft greens, where you can almost see 
the grass grow and the apple blossoms coming out. It makes me think 
of that Corot we saw at Mrs. Lawrence's yesterday. Then I want some 
new books ; there's a fine new set of Ruskin I'm longing for. So you see, 
Margaret," continued the girl, with another look in the glass as she fastened 
a pink rose in her dress, "it isn't pretty clothes alone I care for." 

Margaret, watching the girl's face in the glass, vaguely wondered what 
made her eyes so restless and weary. With a woman's intuition she felt 
that something was wrong, and inwardly wished "Mildred Crane were more 
like other girls," and indulged now and then in a cosy confidence. She even 
contemplated putting her arm round Mildred as she rose to go, and asking 
what troubled her; for the girl, with all her friends, sometimes seemed 
strangely alone. But something in her friend's face prevented her. 

"One never quite knows whether Mildred would like a demonstration 
of that sort," she said to herself, as she left the house and tried to forgive 
herself for not following out her generous impulses. 

In the meantime Mildred was standing in the middle of the room where 
Margaret had left her. She stood there without moving for what seemed to 
her a long time, but what was in reality but a few minutes, so rapidly had 
the girl's mind been reviewing her situation. As one will often postpone a 
decision until the last moment, in hopes that some miracle will happen to 
prevent the decision, so Mildred had not let herself think much since 
Kenyon Howe had proposed to her the night before. But no miracle had 
happened, and he was coming in an hour for his answer. 

The girl put her hands up to her head, burying her face and trying to 
think. Much as she dreaded the decision, her mind flew over the ground 
with surprising clearness. She knew she did not love Kenyon Howe, and 
yet she did not feel about refusing him as she had about other men. She 
began to feel and acknowledge to herself that he had a subtle influence over 
her ; and the acknowledgment once made, it began to assume proportions. 
She had to admit to herself that she could love this man if she would let 

Ah, but that was the very question — should she let herself? She was 
not an impulsive girl, who made friends easily; people had to come to her. 


She did not rush into things with abandon as a girl might have done who 
had not had the years of discipline and self-repression that had come to 
her. She realized herself that she was not like other girls in their first love 
affairs. She realized, too, that she was analyzing the situation in anything 
but a lover-like way. But her eyes had been opened too keenly by the past 
to let her enter into this experience as a girl with a happy, untroubled child- 
hood might have done. It was because the years of poverty and repression 
had burnt themselves into her very heart that she stood now irresolute, not 
knowing which path to choose. The thought of the narrow, grinding years 
to come when the things she prized so dearly would be impossible to her, 
made her shrink from accepting this love. She was noble enough not to 
value the things for themselves, but for the richness and beauty they brought 
into her life, which had been so starved before. She knew it would be years 
before this man who had offered her his love could give her the full life of 
beauty and culture she had then. And with this the thought of their chil- 
dren came to her, and the suffering which would come in denying them all 
that made life rich and beautiful. Then came the thought of her own mother's 
suffering. Could she live through all that again? To see those we love 
suffering for what makes life rich and strong is so hard ! The girl had seen 
all this in her mother's life, and she shuddered as the patient, yet unsatisfied 
face came up before her. She found herself wondering if her father's love 
made up for the cramped, starved life her mother had led. Her father was 
a busy man, not given to affectionate demonstrations, and she wondered if 
her mother would choose it over again if the choice was to be made asrain. 
Then Kenyon's face rose before her, and her heart reproached her that 
she had not thought of him before. Yet she had thought of him. Under- 
neath all the reasoning had been the feeling, dear to her even in her perplex- 
ity, of his love. The thought came that it was her duty to consider his 
happiness. But even though the idea of this true and tender love came to her 
in all its sweetness, yet she did not then appreciate the comfort and strength 
of such a love in the hours of loneliness and struggle which must needs come 
to every woman. The girl was too self-reliant, too happy in her present life, 
to dread those hours as an older woman might have done. She wondered, 
after all, if she did accept this love, whether she could make him happy. 
The fear came pressing upon her that her life would grow narrow and 


bitter in the years of struggle which must inevitably come, and that the 
suffering would make him feel that his love had been more a curse than a 
blessing to them both. The very thought made the girl shrink ! She 
pressed her hand over her brow, weary with the whole problem. In her 
distress her heart rose in rebellion against the fate which had made her so 
unlike other girls, unable to accept the happiness of love without analyzing 
it until doubt and perplexity destroyed the joy of it all ! 

The girl went over and over the question in her mind until she saw her 
judgment was losing its power. She felt the extreme need of having some 
one to go to for help in her perplexity. And yet the thought came of the 
utter impossibility of making any one understand. She felt she could not 
say, "I hesitate about marrying Kenyon Howe because he has no money." 
Even her best friend, knowing the ability and character of the man, his 
social position and rare promise, would think her mercenary. "They don't 
know what I do of poverty," the poor girl cried out to herself as she felt 
herself judged by them; "they don't know how bitter and hard it made 
my mother's life, and it will do the same to mine !" 

All this time the thought was pressing upon her that she must decide 
the question either one way or the other. She felt baffled by the perplexity 
into which her analysis had thrown her, and an intense desire came to her to 
get away from it all — fly anywhere to escape the decision. Just then the 
servant brought her his card. 

Mechanically she walked to the glass to straighten her hair, which she 
had disarranged in her struggle. As she looked in the glass her eye fell 
upon the rose she had fastened an hour before in her dress. Unconsciously 
she raised it to her face to catch its perfume. Suddenly, as she held the rose 
in her hand drinking in its sweetness, by the wonderful associative power an 
odor always possesses, another scene was suggested to her. In a moment 
the pretty room, filled with its lovely books and pictures, and the dainty 
trifles a woman loves, was gone, and the girl stood by her mother's bed in 
the old Vermont parsonage. The room was bare and cheerless, and the face 
on the pillow had a pinched, prematurely aged look. Yet it was lit up now 
by a glow of pleasure as her eyes rested on a bowl of pink roses Mildred 
held up for her mother to see ; roses which the girl had bought for the sick 
woman with money saved for months. The joy in the faded face as she 


handled the lovely season's flowers with a soft, caressing touch, was like a 
child's. " There, child, put them down," she said at last, adding, " I had 
such roses as that every day when I was a girl. Ah, Mildred, beauty is 
God's own gift to his children, and when it is crushed out of our lives they 
become narrow and bitter." 

The look in her mother's face as she said these words Mildred never 
forgot. It came back to her now with a shock like the voice of one from the 
dead. Without another word she turned from the glass and went down 
to give her answer. She did not wait for conventional greetings, but went 
straight up to her lover, saying in a clear, low voice, " Kenyon, I 
appreciate the gift you have offered me, but it will not be right for me to 
take it." 

Something in the girl's pale, resolute face daunted the man. The 
passionate remonstrances trembling on his lips changed to the simple ques- 
tion, " Am I to know nothing more?" For a moment the girl hesitated; 
she dreaded to tell him her reason, and yet the thought came that she owed 
it to him, it was her penance for giving him unhappiness. In addition she 
felt he would not understand, and would despise her for her decision on 
such grounds, and that would help him to forget his love. So, in a few 
words she told him as far as she could the story of her life, and the struggle 
of the last hour. She did not look at his face as she told it, yet when it was 
done, she saw the change which had come over it. It was more disappoint- 
ment than contempt, as if an idol had fallen, and the man's faith was 
shattered. The girl felt he had not understood her, and was judging her 
as she had feared the world would judge her. She saw he had not under- 
stood her struggle and thought her ignoble and worldly. For a moment an 
intense longing came over her to justify herself in his eyes, to prove to him 
that she had not been utterly selfish in her decision, that she had thought of 
him and of their children, that she cared too much for him to run the risk 
of making his love a curse rather than a blessing. 

But then the thought followed that he did not know what her life had 
been, that no soul can enter into the comprehension of another's sorrow, and 
least of all this man, who had experienced exactly the opposite results of 
poverty from her own ; in his case it had served to drive him on to conquer 
and succeed. She felt then, as she had not before, how utterly different his 


nature was from hers, and the impossibility of making him understand 
sealed her lips. 

There was a long silence between them and then he rose to go, saying, 
as he looked into her eyes for a moment, " Good-bye ; I have not under- 
stood you before or else I do not understand you now. God bless you." 
And he was gone. 

She did not move for a long time after he went out, and then she 
mechanically stooped to pick up something she saw lying on the carpet. 
It was the pink rose fallen from her dress, which he had crushed beneath 
his foot as he left her ! 

Life holds much of interest to an eager, intelligent and ambitious 
woman. The next ten years of Mildred Crane's life were years rich from 
the intercourse with cultured people, and full of the pleasure of travel 
and life abroad. Her desire for a life of beauty and experience was satis- 
fied. At thirty she was an accomplished, attractive and clever woman, a 
charming companion at a dinner, a much sought for guest at a house party. 
Men enjoyed her fine mind and bright conversation. She was much 
admired and even loved, but no one ever touched her heart as the man she 
had given up. He became a prominent lawyer, made a place for himself 
and married. Mildred did not love him, but she wondered why it was that 
a pang shot through her heart when the news of his marriage reached her 
during her life abroad. 

After that those who loved her best noticed now and then a cynical tone 
in her gay talk, a slight touch of hardness which made her all the more 
brilliant, perhaps, but which men dread even when they admire. Had 
she failed to count the cost of the life she had chosen for herself ? 

The poet tells us that 

" He who shuts love out, in turn shall be 
Shut out from love, and on her threshold lie 
Howling in outer darkness." 

Gertrude Parker Spalding, '92. 



Not your sweet, red lips, dear, 

Tremulous with sighs, 
Lest their passion dull love's rapture; 

Kiss me with your eyes. 

Gleam on Cupid's wing, dear, 

At the least touch flies, 
Even lips may brush to dimness ; 

Kiss me with your eyes. 

Pain within the bliss, dear, 

Of those soft curves lies ; 
Only love the soul' s light carries ; 

Kiss me with your eyes. 

Maude Thompson. 


"How old Colonel Howe looks," said the younger of two men who were 
standing in the broad window of a Fifth Avenue Clubhouse. As he spoke 
his eyes followed the tall, bent figure of the Colonel disappearing in the 
crowd. "Yes," assented the older man, "he begins to show his years. 
Why he's sixty if he's a day, and yet a few weeks ago he was as active as 
any young man. What a fine fellow he is, though ! You don't know the 
story of his life, do you? It is a very small one, hardly merits the name, 
but I like to tell it because it shows the real man." The men called for fresh 
cigars, and drew up their chairs before the glowing grate. Amid wreaths of 
blue smoke the story-teller began his tale in a slow, retrospective manner. 

"Well, a good many people here in New York think they know Ned, — 
that's the Colonel, — but they don't. Their belief is only a compliment to 
self-conceit. They see a grave, courteous man, who is liked by every one, 
who gives and spends his whole substance in the service of others, but I 
know a different Ned. We were boys together. He was a handsome lad, a 
bit of a dare-devil and rather too heedless, but a fellow you couldn't help 
loving, faults and all, the first minute you set eyes on him. As time went 
on my cousin Nell, more's the pity that she should be of my kin, won his 
heart. She was something of a flirt, but he was blind and loved her 
passionately with his whole might and being. 


"But, soon after their engagement, their blissful dream was cut short 
by the breaking out of the war. We both enlisted, and I remember to this 
day how he looked as we were saying the last good-byes. For a moment he 
seemed to forget everything but Nell looking down upon him; then, with a 
lightly tossed kiss and a wave of his cap, he rode off, his face set steadily 
toward the front. I have wished since that one or the other might have died 
then, while trust was still sweet and strong. Ned fought like a knight of old, 
winning promotion on the field for bravery. He loved, too, like a knight, 
and I knew when he watched the stars instead of sleeping that he was far 
away with her, laying, in imagination, his hard-won honors at her feet. 

"Well, to cut a long story short, I went home at the beginning of the 
third year on leave of absence, and found Nell betrothed to another man. 
She had heartlessly jilted Ned, my boyhood friend, and I must see him, must 
meet his eyes shining with love's light, must answer his eager questions. 
But Nell had the grace to spare me, and wrote to Ned breaking their engage- 
ment. When I rejoined the company I was impressed with a certain new 
strength and dignity in Ned's bearing. It hurt me to note the unaccustomed 
lines about his mouth and the pitiable weariness in his eyes. He met my 
glance with a long, steady look, and wrung my hand hard. Otherwise he 
gave no sign of his wound, but there was a restlessness about him which 
defied fatigue. 

" Only once did I ever hear him complain. As usual he had tramped 
the night half through, but when I awoke was leaning against a near-by tree 
to rest. The purity of his pale face, sharply defined against the gray bark, 
startled me. It seemed as if all the earth had been refined away in the sharp 
fire of sorrow, and the soul left to shine forth in undimmed beauty. Theie 
alone with his God he cried out in pleading, broken tones : ' O, how can I 
give her up; how can I live without her? Give me strength to bear the 
trial, to make the love I gave her a blessing and not a curse. I know that 
she is unworthy of that love, but the knowledge does not ease the pain ! ' 
And in the bitterness of his grief he turned his face to the tree and wept. 
The next day he fought with an intensity akin to madness, and faced death 
with reckless indifference. 

"At last the war came to an end, and we both went to New York. 
From the very first Ned was a great pet, especially with women. True, he 


smiled little, but his courtesy and manliness won their hearts ; then, bless 
you, he never spared any money to give them pleasure. He danced with 
them, talked with them, rode with them, but never offered his love to any 
one of them. People wondered why he did not marry, and often asked him, 
only to hear him invariably reply very gravely with a quizzical light in his 
eyes, 'Why, I have never found anybody who will take me.' 

"This perfect control grew hateful to me. I found myself wondering 
how much longer he could stand the strain, when along in '74 or '75 he began 
to spend Sunday out of town. I did not know the reason, but saw with joy 
that the most rigid lines of his face were relaxing and the shadow of his 
eyes lifting. He came to me one day with something very like the old glad 
smile of his youth on his lips and a tenderer note in his voice. Laying his 
hand affectionately on my shoulder he said : ' See here, old man, you needn't 
fret about me any longer. I am all right, do you hear ? The tension has 
snapped, and I am in love once again. I am more than grateful to you for 
keeping still. I just couldn't have borne your speaking about her, but it is all 
over and done with now. Here's a picture of my sweetheart. What do you 
think of her?' He took from his pocket the miniature of a smiling child, 
and laughed at my surprise. 'That is my niece, Dorothy,' he continued, 
' at whose shrine I worship.' 

"And he did completely, unreservedly. All the love which had been 
Nell's, and which he had so resolutely shut up in his heart during those long 
hard years, was now lavished on this mite of a girl. As she has grown 
older, he seems to have grown younger. The friendship between them has 
been very beautiful, in fact almost ideal, but again Ned has been called upon 
to bear a crushing; blow. Two weeks ago her en°rao;ement was announced, 
and he has aged in a night. He is dazed. He cannot realize that, hereafter, 
he will hold a second place in her life. He has summoned to his aid that 
splendid courage, which is so characteristic of him, but youth with its heal- 
ing of time and strength of hope is behind him. His will cannot make his 
heart forget its loneliness. Poor Ned ! I wonder why the best men are hit 
so often." 

M. Gertrude Wilson, '95-. 



Swiftly cutting through the water, 
Falling spray on either side, 

Coyly dipping, 

Rising, skipping, 
Borne along by wind and tide, 
Merrily my boat doth glide. 

Oh, the sunlight, how it flickers, 
Showering diamonds on the way ! 

Madly dancing, 

Shining, glancing, 
Slyly beckoning, come and play, 
Be, like us, bright, free, and gay. 

And I sing a song for gladness, 
Send it echoing toward the sea; 

I am happy, 

Happy, happy! 
Blow, ye winds ! Blow joyfully, 
Nor sigh ; but sing and laugh with me. 

Dokothy Allen. 


On a quiet street in a little Southern town, a great house frowned at 
the passers-by through an avenue of maples and elms ; but at one of the 
deep-set windows, a sweet face was ever seen smiling through the dainty 
white curtains. The face was an ideal one, strangely out of place in its 
gloomy surroundings. The eyes were very kind ; the mouth was sweet and 
gentle ; the cheeks were still touched with a delicate pink ; but the crown- 
ing glory of the face was the halo of quaint curls surrounding it, gloss}', 
silver ones, surmounted always by the daintiest of white caps. 

Since the war, Miss Miranda Lee had lived in the great house with 
Uncle Bob, Aunt Melviny, and great, stately Remus as her only com- 
panions. No less beautiful than her face was Miss Miranda's life. Through- 
out its many years, it had been characterized by deeds of charity and love, 
and now at its close, God had ordained that Miss Miranda should sit always 
at the deep window of the gloomy house, and smile out upon the world for 
which she bad done so much. 


Several years before this time, Miss Miranda had had a severe fall, and 
the doctor had said she would never walk again. Brave and patient, she 
submitted unfalteringly, and the neighbors had grown used to seeing Uncle 
Bob, his black face full of sympathy, wheeling his beloved mistress up and 
down the long porch ; while Remus, with his great dog face equally sym- 
pathetic, walked solemnly by Uncle Bob's side. For many years no event 
more unusual than this had disturbed the quiet of the ancient porch, but one 
morning its long silence was broken. 

Back through the elms and maples, in the shadow of the lowering 
porch, a beautiful boy was romping noisily with a stately, much-surprised, 
but very kind old dog. The unwonted noise caused much wonder and 
gossip among the neighbors. They knew that Miss Miranda had no relatives 
save an uncle in an adjoining state, and a distant cousin or two. Now the 
little stranger caused interest not only on account of his connection with 
Miss Miranda, but on account of his bright face and sturdy figure. 

As the boy looked up from his romp, flushed and breathless, and shook 
the tumbled mass of curls out of his laughing eyes, a sweet voice from 
behind the white curtains called, " Staunton," and the boy ran merrily into 
the great, dark hall. The wonder of the neighbors increased, but the dark- 
ness of the hall shut out their curious glances, and they did not see the 
trembling hand laid gently on the sunny head, nor the two great tears that 
rolled silently down Miss Miranda's face. Nor could these curious onlookers 
have sympathized with those tears ; but to the little stranger their cause was 
well known, and he threw two chubby arms around Miss Miranda's neck. 
Very fresh in his memory was the picture of a handsome father holding a 
bright-haired boy and telling him innumerable stories. But the story that 
Staunton knew the best was one about Miss Miranda. Staunton's father was 
a very young man when the war broke out, but he had made a brave 
soldier. Many tales he used to tell of army life, but best of all he loved to 
tell how once, when his regiment was marching through Kentucky, they 
had encamped near the old Lee place. One night, two confederate spies 
were thought to be concealed at Major Lee's, and it was ordered that the 
house be guarded. All day Staunton's father had been on duty, and for 
thirty hours he had not slept ; so with dread he took up his watch at the 
back of the great house. During the evening, a sweet-faced woman came 


out and asked the young soldier if he were not very tired. He told her of 
his long vigil, and even as he spoke he seemed to grow more faint. The 
kind words and cheery face of the little woman were very comforting to the 
weary man, but ere long she returned to the house, and the young soldier, 
determined, yet scarce conscious, continued his watch. Later in the night, 
the little lady came out again, anxious for her new friend's welfare. For a 
moment she did not 'see the young sentinel, and then with a strange mis- 
giving she noticed a dark shadow under one of the great elms. Deeply 
touched, she stooped over it, and found the weary soldier sleeping peace- 
fully, unconscious of his danger. Softly she moved away, and all night a 
steady tread was heard at the back of the house. 

Just as the early dawn was breaking, the clank of a sabre near at hand 
broke the stillness, and a tall figure appeared at the farther corner of the 
house. Quickly, noiselessly, the little woman walked to the sleeping soldier 
and shook him gently. With a start he awoke, and in a moment knew all. 
Without a word, he shouldered his musket, and walked steadily toward the 
tall figure in blue ; and the sentinel of the night disappeared. 

The young soldier had little chance to thank his guardian angel, but when 
the war was over, and the soldiers laid aside their grey and blue, beautiful gifts 
and letters full of love and heartfelt thanks came to Miss Miranda Lee from 
a far-off Northern home. In time that home was broken up, as was also the 
Southern one. Years after, the soldier had married, and the bright boy to 
whom he loved to tell the story was given him. Staunton Lee Prescott, he 
was named, for the friendship between Miss Miranda and her " soldier boy " 
had grown to be a strange and beautiful one. 

When Staunton was only a baby his mother died, and a few days ago a 
strange, sad letter came to Miss Miranda. Her "soldier boy" was dead, 
and it was his request that Staunton should be sent to her. With all the 
love and tenderness of her nature she opened her heart to the child, and in 
the embrace of the chubby arms she found her love returned. 

Generous, loving, happy, romping Staunton found a place in every heart 
and home of the village. When Aunt Melviny made pickles, or preserves, 
or cake in the kitchen, Staunton always wanted to help, and in due time 
he had learned to make biscuit as well as Aunt Melviny herself. Though 
Uncle Bob's step at its best was not very firm, yet he was never too tired to 


ride Staunton on his back ; and though Staunton's five years had not ren- 
dered him a very efficient workman, yet his play was never too interesting, 
nor the task too difficult for him to help Uncle Bob. As for Remus, we 
know that he was of the best blood in the State, and that his dignity was 
easily offended ; but he played with Staunton as though he were a young 
puppy, and Staunton never forgot to save Remus a piece of his apple or 
cake. "Aunt Miwanda," as he called Miss Lee, grew healthier every day 
under the influence of so sunny a presence ; and one morning Uncle Bob 
found the boy, with his arms almost stretched from their sockets to reach 
the handle of the chair, laboriously wheeling Miss Miranda on the porch. 
When Uncle Bob laughed, Staunton, as impulsive in one act as in the other, 
stamped his feet, treading on poor Remus' toe, shaking Miss Miranda, and 
hurting Uncle Bob's feelings. These frequent bursts of anger were easily 
appeased, and the boy's true sorrow and humble apologies were pleasures 
to see. 

This morning Staunton soon disappeared, and after a while Remus 
came limping slowly in to Miss Miranda, with a foot much bundled up. 
The bandage was found to be Staunton's handkerchief; and as Miss Miranda 
patted the great dog's head, and smiled down at the little soiled handker- 
chief, a very flushed and excited little boy came into the room. Walking 
over to Miss Miranda, he deposited three paper bags in her lap, and slowly 
counted them : " One for Wemus, one for Aunt Miwanda, and one for Unc' 
Bob," and then ran laughingly out of the room, to be soon followed by 
Remus, who could not even stay to eat his candy. 

When Staunton had lived in the great house almost a year, his birthday 
came. He would be six years old, and he walked about proud at the 
thought. Great preparations were being made for his birthday, and contri- 
butions were given toward its celebration not only by the inmates of the 
house, but by the milkman, and the butcher, and the grocer, and the neigh- 
bors, and the kind old village doctor. When Miss Miranda called Staunton 
to her and asked him what he would most like to have for his birthday, he 
laid his rosy face close against Remus' black head, and answered, "Aunt 
Miwanda, I would wather have a blue suit like papa's in my picture, and a 
sword." And so the tailor was busy all the day before the birthday making 
a little blue suit with brass buttons and epaulettes ; and Uncle Bob was sent 
to the city to find a little sword. 


When at last the great day came, and Staunton went down to breakfast, 
his heart was almost bursting with joy. There was a little saddle and bridle, 
and outside the door a beautiful pony from the doctor ; there were toys, and 
books, and candy, and a silver collar for Remus from Aunt Melviny and 
Uncle Bob. And last of all, Uncle Bob brought in the beautiful blue suit 
with the brass buttons and the sword, and Staunton's joy knew no bounds. 
He kissed " Aunt Miwanda" and Aunt Melviny and Uncle Bob, and rolled 
Remus over and over on the floor. When night came, and the happy boy 
was exhausted with romp and play, he could scarcely be persuaded to take 
off his uniform. 

In the night Miss Miranda was ill, and Uncle Bob had to go for the 
doctor. Miss Miranda was afraid to stay with Aunt Melviny alone, but the 
doctor must be sent for. Staunton heard the two old women talking, and 
after Uncle Bob had gone, he softly left his little bed, donned his blue uni- 
form, took his sword, and went out unobserved. Up and down the long 
avenue he walked, keeping guard in the dark over " Aunt Miwanda." 

Many years before, the great old trees had seen another boy, a little 
older than this one, but just as full of life, and love, and hope, keeping guard 
in the dark. And to-night they bent down in the breeze, and spread their 
great protecting arms over the fearless little guardsman. 

Finally the carriage came with the doctor. Uncle Bob was driving, but 
Uncle Bob's eyes were very dim, and when the horse was frightened at 
something in front of him, the old man did not see the faithful sentinel, and 
urged the horse on. Frightened beyond control, the animal dashed forward, 
and a child's scream rang out on the night. The doctor jumped from the 
carriage, and as he stooped over the boy, he saw the little blue suit, and 
heard Staunton say feebly, " I watched for Aunt Miwanda." 

The ancient porch was silent again. The face behind the white curtains 
was seldom seen. Only a great, solemn old dog walked slowly among the 
elms and maples, or slept in the sun at the door. 

In the room of the white curtains, placed so that the sweet face among 
the snowy pillows could be ever turned toward them, were two pictures : 
the one of a strong man in the prime of life and hope, the other of a beauti- 
ful boy ; and under the picture of the boy there hung a little sword, still 
sheathed. Staunton had paid his father's debt of gratitude. 

Agnes L. Caldwell, '96. 



I was sitting on the floor 
By our open cottage door, 
Stealing idly from the store 
Of my dreams ; 

Feeling happy at the sight 
Of the golden summer light, 
Making dreary places bright 
With its gleams. 

Then I wished, with airy sigh, 
That a king would canter by, 
Wearing robes blue as the sky, 
And a crown. 

And he'd see my wistful face 
In its old accustomed place, 
And would stop with easy grace, 
And leap down. 

He would take me by the hand, 
And tell in language grand, 
How he'd wandered o'er the land 
For a queen. 

He'd had couriers far and wide, 
Searching o'er the county-side; 
But no one fit to be his bride 
Had been seen. 

Then he'd bend his stately head, 
While the morning light shone red, 
And would ask me if I'd wed 
With a king. 

While I'd blushingly look down, 
He'd tell me of his native town, 
And that I should have a crown, 
And a ring. 

Then I looked at him and smiled 
In surprise, that I, a child, — 
When I heard, in accents mild, 
Mother say, — 

' Put away your foolish wishes, 
For they'll never turn to fishes; 
Come and help me wash the dishes, 

Little May." Frances A. Young, '97. 



She was a pretty girl, but with a man like the Doctor mere prettiness 
counted for little. It was her resolute, independent manner which amused 
and interested him from the first. She was much given to wearing stiff", 
broad-brimmed hats, jaunty vests and jackets with innumerable pockets 
like a man's, and the latest thing in ties, which she knotted with enviable 
skill. She congratulated herself upon being quite strong-minded and 
masculine in appearance. Yet to an interested observer she was never any- 
thing but charmingly girlish. At least so thought the Doctor, for he loved 

She was a writer of tales in a modest way, and she talked a great deal 
about a mysterious ideal which she was striving to reach,, and a certain 
sphere which she was destined to fill. Her voice was soft and low, but she 
talked very fast and in a decided way, and when she began to speak of her- 
self there was no stopping her. But her pretty, self-complacent chatter 
amused the Doctor, listening from the vantage point of his masculine 
superiority, and he even encouraged her in it. Her tales ran all on the same 
theme, and her heroines were all exponents of that ideal of life which she 
had builded up for herself. They were all maidens of the resolute, inde- 
pendent type, with an Absorbing Ideal, in the pursuit of which they bravely 
renounced love and marriage and all like trivialities. 

As a result the stories were a trifle monotonous, at least to a man like 
the Doctor, who had but little patience with all this talk about woman's 
sphere, although it amused him. Still, they were told in a graceful, piquant 
way, and the critics who praised the style pardoned the monotony of theme. 

The Doctor, being all this time very much in love with Phyllis, was her 
most constant reader, and he found it interesting to trace in all the lofty- 
minded heroines an exact delineation of herself. Brown-eyed and blue-eyed, 
rich and poor, they were all Phyllis pure and simple. In fact, it was as 
impossible for the one-sided young woman to write of any other type than 
her own, as it was for the Doctor to write at all. 

Phyllis herself, however, did not dream of this, and the Doctor never 
ventured to advise or suggest. He simply gave the unstinted praise which 
he knew would please. 


They lived in a conventionalized Bohemia, which they found extremely 
convenient, since it permitted the Doctor to take Phyllis unchaperoned to the 
theatre, to walk with her on Sundays in the Park, and occasionally of an 
evening to drop into her pretty, fire-lighted parlor. 

She was always glad to see him. She welcomed him with frank cor- 
diality, and made tea for him, apologizing as she poured it that she could 
not offer beer and crackers and cheese instead. As for the Doctor, he 
readily pardoned the absence of such Bohemian delicacies, while he watched 
her small hands busy with the tea things ; and he soon developed a true old 
woman's fondness for the mild green herb. 

They were very happy together in their free and easy Bohemia, until 
one day he told her that he loved her ; and then everything was changed. 

Being a man endowed with a fair share of personal attractions, social 
standing, and reputation, the Doctor had felt quite justified in offering his 
hand and heart to Phyllis, and he was entirely unprepared for the advanced 
views of life which she proceeded to shower upon him at his first word of 

Phyllis would have made an uncommonly successful lawyer. She had 
a clever way of vigorously asserting her own opinions, and passing over 
those of her opponents as quite too worthless and absurd for consideration, 
until they came to think the same. So she argued the case out very plainly 
for the Doctor, until he saw as she did that it was quite impossible for a 
young woman of her ideals to turn her attention to such trivial matters as 
love and marriage ; that his forcing such questions upon her had been, to 
say the least, inconsiderate and indelicate ; and that in the future they must 
be simply comrades in Bohemia as in the past. Love other than Platonic 
was altogether out of the question. Thus a peace was patched up, which, 
if not wholly satisfactory to the Doctor, was entirely so to Phyllis, and he 
was forced to be content. Prom the earliest stage of their acquaintance he 
had learned to know that her word was law. 

But one day this relationship as well came to an end. Phyllis decided 
to seek more congenial societ}' among the literary circles of Boston, and she 
vanished from Bohemia. She kindly sent the Doctor a note of farewell. 
She hoped he would not forget his old comrade in Bohemia, and she ended 
by advising him in a frank, sisterly way to marry some nice, sweet girl who 


was unhampered by high ideals and lofty missions. The Doctor was un- 
reasonably indignant on the receipt of this kind little note. He had believed 
that Phyllis was mortal, and that the fortress of her heart must surrender 
after long-continued siege. This note dashed his hopes to the ground. He 
tossed it angrily into the fire. He renounced his love for Phyllis on the 
spot. Then and there he painfully decided that woman was indeed an un- 
known quantity, and that wise old Virgil must have been inspired by some 
remote ancestress of his comrade in Bohemia when he wrote, " Varium et 
mutabile semper femina." 

The Doctor did not write to Phyllis. He had a grim feeling of satis- 
faction in knowing that she would expect him to, and be disappointed. 
However, he kept closely in touch with her new life through the medium of 
her stories. He read them carefully, and as always found them reflecting 
minutely her own experiences, moods, and ambitions. From time to time 
he read of her in the papers. It was evident that her career in Boston was 
a triumphant one. The literary circles of the city had taken her up, and 
were petting and praising and doing their best to spoil her. The Doctor 
was not surprised. He knew how exactly her ideas would coincide with 
Bostonian traditions. But after a time her story-writing appeared to cease. 
Though the Doctor searched the magazines and papers he could find nothing 
from her usually indefatigable pen. He was perplexed and troubled, until 
one day he read something which explained her long silence. She was en- 
gaged in the production of a novel, which the literary world was awaiting 
with great eagerness. The Doctor smiled in a superior way, as he thought 
what a monotonous novel it would be ; but he awaited its coming quite as 
eagerly as the literary world assembled under the shadow of Boston's gilded 

It came at last, a dainty volume bound in white and silver. In his 
eagerness the Doctor gave himself a holiday for the purpose of enjoying it, 
and locked himself in his room that he might not be interrupted. The story 
was simple and short, but it was told in Phyllis' most graceful style, and it 
abounded in charming bits of description and piquant dialogue. As the 
Doctor had expected, the old fin de Steele maiden was the heroine, strong- 
minded and resolute, her wagon as usual hitched to a star, but — miracle of 
miracles ! — Phyllis had ended the tale to the chime of wedding bells. 


The Doctor cried " Eureka !" when he finished the story. He kissed its 
white and silver covers rapturously. He danced a wild sort of breakdown in 
his delirious joy. Then he sat down and read it for the second time as calmly 
as possible. But he had not been mistaken. The resolute maiden certainly 
did renounce her ideals for the trivial facts of love and marriage. As usual, 
the heroine was Phyllis, and the jubilant Doctor could not fail to see that 
the hero was himself. He laughed loud and long over this discovery. She 
had given him blue eyes, to be sure, and had glorified and exalted him in a 
most flattering way ; but he could not be mistaken in believing that the hero 
was a clever portrait of her old comrade in Bohemia, — her first and only 
lover. Then, in his exultant egotism, he read in the story the admission of 
love on the part of his proud Phyllis. It was evident that the fortress of 
her heart had surrendered. He drew his flattering conclusions, and started 
immediately for Boston. 

He found Phyllis in a cosy fire-lighted parlor, a counterpart of the one 
in which they used to meet in the good old Bohemian days. She was over- 
joyed to see him. She made much of him in her charming way, and as 
usual chatted very fast about herself and her triumphant successes. The 
keen-eyed Doctor thought that he could detect a certain restraint in her 
manner, however, in spite of her rapid flow of language, and this he inter- 
preted most flatteringly and hopefully for himself. She insisted upon 
making tea as in the old days, and, as she busied herself at the low table, 
he felt that his opportunity had come. The white and silver volume was 
in his pocket. He carried it as a talisman, and he passed his hand ca- 
ressingly over it as he began to press his suit. 

He was sure of success, and he plunged at once into the heart of the matter. 
He told her again that he loved her, that he could not be content with their 
old Bohemian comradeship, that he wanted something nearer and dearer. 
Then for a, dramatic climax he produced the little volume, which he vowed 
would always be his dearest possession, and told her of the precious secret 
which his love had discovered within its white and silver covers. Thus he 
showed her that her heart had betrayed itself, and he told her that denial was 
useless. He had come prepared to win her and would brook no refusal. He 
leaned back in his chair with a confident, rapturous smile, waiting for her to 


Phyllis sat in silence with downcast eyes for some time after the Doctor 
had finished. It was a novel thing for her to display any maidenly 
shyness. But under the circumstances it was natural and the Doctor 
revelled in it. He watched her evident confusion in silence, thinking how 
pretty she looked under the rose-shaded lamp, and how tenderly she loved 

At last she raised her long lashes. Her blue eyes met his frankly. 
They were shining like stars, and there was a queer, tremulous smile about 
her mouth. She spoke low and with unusual slowness. 

"I had no idea my little story would prove to be such a telltale. I 
assure you it was quite unconscious on my part. It was very clever of you 
to read between the lines, and I suppose I must confess now. It is true 
that I have renounced principles which I was once proud to uphold, and I 
do look upon life from a different standpoint. Yes, I must admit that my 
heart has at last surrendered to love, for" 

She paused, and the Doctor sprang from his chair exultingly. 

"For I marry my publisher to-morrow. It was he who inspired my 

Blanche Baker Field, '92. 


I passed along a lonely path at night, 

Amid a forest vast and gray and grim. 
The slender trees showed faintly by the light 

Of waning moon, by veiling clouds made dim. 
Their crowded trunks, a silent battle host, 

Surrounded me, their helpless, puny foe, 
And each one had, like its attendant ghost, 

Its pale reflection in the pool below. 
From out the weeds and rushes, tall and rank, 

Which grew at will, encroaching on my road, 
A water serpent glided forth, then sank 

Within the noisome depths, its fit abode. 
Then yearned my soul for freedom and for light; 
My life was like that dark, foreboding night. 

Geneva Obumb, '97. 



The drawing rooms were a charming study in color. The candelabra 
cast a restful, mellow light over a shifting scene of dainty spring gowns and 
youthful faces. Here and there great clusters of red carnations caught the 
light, and reflected it in patches of intense color. The conventional back- 
ground of palms hid some musicians, whose soft undercurrent of skilful 
melody blended all the sounds of the gay gathering into a dreamy whole. 
Altogether it was a most successful tea, and the younger set, for whom it 
was given, were evidently enjoying it. "It's just like everything she does," 
said one admiring maiden ; " she manages all her affairs, — well, perfectly !" 

The hostess, a small, fair-faced woman, with the graceful manners of a 
successful social leader, was saying good-bye to a guest. "This dreadful 
thing about Marian Cortland," she was saying, while a shadow crossed her 
sweet, high-bred face, and her voice trembled an instant. "You know I 
could scarcely believe it at first. She was to have received with me to-day, 
and now — why no one knows where she is, even. I don't know when any- 
thing has pained me so much. But you mustn't go just yet. My little 
Italian boy is going to play for us in a moment. Haven't I told you about 
my protege? He is a young Italian who lives with his older brother. The 
brother plays the violin down in Grace Church. They are both exquisite 
musicians, and simply devoted to each other." 

"A violinist from Grace Church died quite suddenly the other day," 
replied the other lady. "The name was Italian, too, if I remember rightly." 

By the tea table two girls were gossiping a minute. " I'm terribly dis- 
appointed in Marian," said one, gravely. " I was very fond of her at school. 
I thought she was the strongest, most reliable girl I ever knew. And then 
to have her break through all propriety and good taste like this ! Well, it 
only shows how little you can depend on people, anyhow." 

"There is no excuse for her, certainly," rejoined the other, medita- 
tively, and then paused. 

Through the soft, incessant hum of movement and voices rose the notes 
of a violin. At once a stillness fell. At first it was only the pause that ac- 
companies a change of attention, but it deepened into interest as the player 
went on. He was playing Chopin's eleventh Nocturne. The soft notes of 
the first melody rang out clearly with their plaintive suggestiveness, and 


then almost died away. Again the music rose, this time with a deeper grief 
in its notes. It throbbed through the rooms till the air seemed to grow 
heavy with the intensity of the pain, the unutterable, benumbing sorrow that 
it told. The theme was repeated till the passion in it sunk to a dull despair. 
Suddenly the music changed. A new element came in ; a quieting, sancti- 
fying influence in the midst of ungoverned grief. The violin tones deepened 
until they were almost like an organ, and the grand, churchly chords rolled 
out in wave after wave of solemn harmony. Still again the music changed, 
and the first theme was repeated, with its sweet, pathetic refrain hallowed 
and calmed now, it seemed to the hearers, by the uplifting spirit of the 
organ strain. The grief still lived, but it had been soothed by faith and 
aspiration. The tender notes grew slower and softer, lingering reluctantly 
on the strings, and at last died away on a high, faint note. 

They had all forgotten about the player. Indeed, he had quite forgotten 
about them. He was still standing behind the palms with the violin held close. 
The brown Italian eyes were far away. " O, Pietro !" he murmured, "did I 
play it right? Dear, dear Pietro, how can I ever play now without you?" 

Some new people had just arrived, and a number of others were start- 
ing to go. The panorama of form and color was still shifting in exquisite 
variety, and the carnations dropped a spicy fragrance as they quivered on 
their long stems. Two girls were drawing out their cards as they left the 
room. " Nan," said the tall one, who a few minutes before had lost her faith 
in humanity, "I guess I didn't mean what I said about Marian this after- 
noon. She was ever such a nice girl. And oh, Nan, if I had been in her 
place I wonder what I would have done ?" 

Margaret Young Henry, '97. 


Dreamily, dreamily, swinging, swaying, 

Blow as the blossoms blow, — 
Babekyn rocks in a faery cradle, 

Now high, now low. 

Babekyn rocks in a faery cradle, 

Hung from the white moon's horn, 
Pillowed on clinging, shimmering fleeces, 

From bright clouds shorn. 


Merrily, gleefully, tossing, rocking, 

Sunshine on every side, — 
Appleblows daintiest, sweetest, palest, 

His Majesty hide. 

Gleefully, daintily, swinging, swaying, 

Blossoms blow light in the wind ; 
Dawn-tinted petals fall thickly, till Baby 

Is hard to And. 

Wearily, wearily, rocking, swaying, 

Even the robins rest; 
When the sun is dead and the blossoms shiver 

Long dreams are best. 

Emily S. Johnson, '97. 


The first action taken by the Alumnae Association of Wellesley College 
in regard to representation of the alumnae on the Board of Trustees was at 
the annual meeting held June 20, 1888. The subject was at that time 
brought up for discussion by the President of the Association, and a committee 
was appointed to present to the Trustees the earnest wish of the Association 
for representation ; in case this request was favorably received, the committee 
was empowered to consult with the Trustees on methods. At the annual 
meeting in June, 1889, this committee reported that the petition which had 
been drawn up had not been presented to the Trustees, as the committee 
were informed unofficially that the Trustees were themselves considering the 
subject of alumnae representation. Their deliberations resulted in the election, 
at their meeting held the day before that of the Association, of Mrs. Marion 
Pelton Guild, '80, as a life member of the Board. This appointment was re- 
ceived with enthusiasm, the universal feeling being that the choice ofthe alumnae 
themselves could not have fixed upon a worthier representative. Since that 
time Mrs. Guild has rendered efficient and satisfactory service as a Trustee. 

But certain objects desired by the alumnae could not be fully secured by 
life membership on the Board of any of their number, and two years later 
the question of representation in the fuller sense of the word was again 
revived. Definite details were developed, and at the annual meeting of June, 
1891, a committee was again appointed, which was instructed to gather full 


information as to the methods of representation of the graduate body in 
other colleges, and to express to the Board of Trustees the strong desire of 
the alumnae for representation of a specified character. Again, before this 
committee had made its report, the Trustees took action and, in a letter 
addressed to the Association and read at the annual meeting held June 22, 
1892, stated their desire "to avail themselves of the co-operation" of the 
Association and ' ' cement more closely the bond " uniting the alumnae to the 
College by giving them further representation upon the Board of Trustees, 
and named a committee appointed to confer with one from the Association 
and devise the best method for such representation. The Association at once 
appointed the committee requested. After a preliminary meeting, this 
committee in the fall of 1892 met the committee from the Trustees. The 
details agreed upon in this joint conference, and afterwards adopted, are as 
follows : the Association has the right to three members from its own number 
on the Board of Trustees, to be nominated by the Association ; graduates of 
three years' standing are qualified to vote for the nominees ; graduates of 
seven years' standing, who are not members of the College Faculty, are 
eligible as nominees ; the term of service of an Alumnae Trustee is six } r ears, 
with the exception of two of the three first nominated, whose terms are two 
and four years respectively. By this last expedient it is secured that a 
nominee shall be chosen every two years. The first election was held in the 
spring of 1894 ; its results have already been announced in the Magazine. 
The returns were made to the Board of Trustees and to the Alumnae Associa- 
tion at their meetings of June, 1894. The nominations were confirmed by 
the Board in the November meeting, and the new Trustees first sat with the 
Board in the meeting held in February of this year. 

A few words in regard to the Alumnae Trustees will be in place in this 

Mrs. Louise McCoy North, of the Class of '79, who serves for the 
term of six years, received her preparation for college in the public schools 
of Lowell, her early home. In college she gave special attention to 
the classics, and on graduation was appointed Instructor in the Greek depart- 
ment. But, an opportunity presenting itself for travel and study in Europe, 
she was given leave of absence for one year. After five years of teaching in 
Wellesley, she was married in December, 1885, to the Rev. F. Mason North. 


Her present residence is in New York City, where she is one of the managers 
of St. Christopher's Home, an orphanage under the care of the Methodist 
church. She also edits the paper which is the organ of the work of the 
Deaconesses of the same religious body, and assists her husband in the editor- 
ship of The Christian City, the organ of the Methodist city mission work. 

Miss Estelle M. Hurll, of the Class of '82, who was chosen for the four 
years' term, has always resided in New Bedford, except as her work of teach- 
ing has taken her elsewhere, and was prepared for college in the Friends' 
Academy in that place. Her college course was scientific, at a time when the 
degree of A.B. was still given to all graduates without distinction as to course ; 
an excellent custom to which we are returning under the new curriculum. 
After two years' teaching in the Metzger Institute, Carlisle, Penn., Miss 
Hurll returned to Wellesley as Instructor in Ethics. Failing health compelled 
her two years later to give up this work, and when, later still, she was appointed 
Professor of Philosophy in Mt. Holyoke College she was again forced to 
relinquish the congenial field opened to her. In recent years of restored 
health she has devoted herself to literary work, the chief fruit of which has 
been her volume recently published, entitled "Child Life in Art." 

Mrs. Adaline Emerson Thompson, of the Class of '80, whose term is two 
years, is the eldest of five sisters who have come to Wellesley from the 
Western city of Rockford, three of whom are ahmma?. Her preparation was 
made in part at Rockford Seminary, in part with a private tutor. Her degree 
was taken in the classical course. In 1883 she was married to Mr. Norman 
F. Thompson. She now resides in East Orange, N. J., where she has taken 
an active part in the work of the Woman's Club, a large and influential 
organization, and was for some years its president. Mrs. Thompson has 
been especially interested and efficient in the College Settlements' Associa- 
tion, of which she has been president since its organization six years ago. 

It is hardly necessary to give expression to the satisfaction of the Alumnae 
of Wellesley in the realization of their long-felt, most earnest wish for a 
closer connection with the immediate aims and interests of the college. They 
have not failed to appreciate a most gratifying feature of the granting of this 
desire, in the fact that at every step the Board of Trustees has anticipated 
their request and shown the most cordial interest in meeting their wishes as 
far as possible in the way most favored by the Association. 

Ellen L. Burhell, '80 



The editorial board of '95, as it prepares to lay aside the inscrutable garb 
of editorial dignity and to step from the editorial sanctum, insists upon exer- 
cising to the last its full perogative, advisory and admonitive. 

We, the editorial board of '95, in this our last appearance, extend a most 
hearty greeting to our successors, and wish them an editorial career of equa- 
nimity and success. As a pledge of our well-wishing, we would give utter- 
ance to certain advisory sentiments worthy of our experience and of the trust 
which we commit to the keeping of the board of '96. 

In general, from henceforth shape your entire course of action in refer 
ence to the Magazine. In order to accomplish this successfully, the follow- 
ing more specific outline may be of service : — 

1. Let each member of the board provide herself with notebook and 
fountain pen. 

2. Thus equipped, let no member enter a recitation, attend a lecture, 
meditate a walk, or settle for a moment's reverie, without a fixed purpose to- 
produce therefrom material for an editorial, a suggestion for the Free Press, 
or some charming verse. 

3. Encourage any tendency exhibited by the English Department in 
the way of requiring for class work specimens of verse form or short stories, 
and be prompt to gather the results. 

4. Make it a fixed rule of the board that each member shall hand in for 
every issue of the Magazine six suggestions for editorials. 

5. Avoid direct soliciting as much as possible ; the result is sometimes 
unexpected. Whenever this expedient proves necessary, state gracefully 
that the board reserves to itself discretionary powers. 

6. Learn to introduce tactfully the subject of the Magazine into all 
questions of general conversation. When an especially good article appears 
in the Vassar Miscellany or Smith College Monthly, make a note of it, and 
lament the " placidness of Wellesley girls from a literary point of view." 

7. In every alternate number let an article appear showing that the 
Magazine is not intended to be supported by the editorial board or by the 
senior class, but is expected to be the exponent of college loyalty and 
college spirit. 


This advice carefully followed will protect against surprises, and we 
proffer it with the hope that it may assist the board of '96 to enter upon the 
success we so heartily wish it. 

Some one recently remarked upon the cheerful optimism of the average 
Wellesley student, and expressed a desire to learn the secret of her contented 
spirit. The grave editor, in pondering this question, finds its solution in 
the Law of Progress, as exemplified by the history of our College Beautiful. 
Each year some step is taken which helps to promote our intellectual de- 
velopment, our social welfare, or our material comfort. The new curriculum 
gave increased opportunity for a broad culture. The fitting up of parlors in 
our largest dormitory will supply a need which has long been felt, by giving 
the girls a pleasant place where they may come together during the periods 
of relaxation before study hours. Our latest improvement is the setting 
apart of two recitation rooms for the use of village students. Only one 
who has known the discomfort of a cold luncheon in the catacombs 
can fully appreciate the cheer of Room B. Only one who has longed 
for a place in which to rest during the moments between recitations can find 
in Room F a haven of peace and quiet ; for about this retreat there still clings 
an atmosphere which is undeniably academic in character. A very few con- 
tributions from those who are comfortably situated in our college buildings, 
would soon make these rooms cozy and attractive. Surely we might in this 
practical way show our appreciation of what Alma Mater has done for our 
village sisters. 


There is no one of the signs of the times which the board considers 
more prophetic of great results in the future, than the new class in Journal- 
ism. A large number of our Wellesley Sophomores will no longer be found 
ignorant, when questions of the day are under discussion, for they now read 
many of the best dailies, and are well informed upon current topics. The 
members of this class will have had such admirable preparation for critical 
and journalistic work, that the day may soon come when The Wellesley 
Magazine shall be renowned for the excellence of its editorial columns and 
for its general literary merit. 



The gathering at Washington during the month of February of three 
representative bodies of women, the Woman's Christian Temperance Union, 
the Daughters of the Revolution, and the National Council of Women fur- 
nishes a spectacle so unusual that it deserves comment. The choice of 
place for these meetings signifies that they embodied a purpose general and 
national in character, and illustrates the growing tendency and importance 
of organization among women. 

The most interesting of these meetings from the point of novelty is the 
National Council of Women, which sat for a session of two weeks during 
the last of February. Representing as it did four million women from all 
parts of the country, and of every social rank, from the society leader to 
the humble laboring woman, and discussing questions of social, educational, 
and industrial import, — this meeting must necessarily exert a vast broaden- 
ing influence on the various local organizations there represented, and give 
a new impetus to all the work now being waged for the benefit of humanity. 



No one knows until he has stood before a group of people to address or 
instruct them, what a difference the attitude of an audience makes to the 
speaker. This is true of the class room as well as of any larger audience, 
and it may be thinking to some purpose, if we who form the class-room 
audiences of the college consider this and act upon it. 

It can certainly be no great inspiration to an instructor to struggle to 
be heard above the din of conflicting voices, for several moments after the last 
bell has rung, and then, as the discussion advances, to see this intense 
ardor change into a listless apathy or an expression of settled determination 
to take no active part in the subject under consideration, unless personally 
pressed to do so by means so direct as to be unavoidable. 

Not only is it a duty to the instructor to preserve toward the recitation 
an air of interest and personal participation, but it is a duty to the class as 
well. While each member expects to gain something by general class 


discussion, she should also feel that it is as much a part of her class work to 
contribute something to the recitation to make it interesting and profitable, 
and this contribution should be made in as clear and entertaining manner as 
possible. The training given by individual participation in class exercises 
may be made one of the most valuable results of the recitation system, and 
we should feel it incumbent upon us to manifest alertness and interest by a 
prompt response to the efforts of the instructor. The fact that one happens 
to be unprepared does not remove this personal responsibility, and excuse 
the look of non-intelligence and lack of interest. Neither should the girl 
who has prepared every point and thought out the entire subject to her 
satisfaction excuse herself from personal effort on the ground that the 
discussion can yield for her nothing of further interest or profit. Each and 
every member of the class should feel that she has something to give as 
well as to get, and should strive to make the recitation hour a time when 
thought is quickened and interest awakened. 

S., '95. 
The question is repeatedly asked, " Why are Wellesley Seniors so worn 
out and tired by spring? There are several good reasons for this, I think, 
for the strongest of us is bound to be a bit worn by the strain of four years' 
routine, slight though it may be. But to me the chief cause for the tired-out 
Seniors is the fact that they are obliged to work until the last moment before 
their graduation without the slightest easing off in the requirements of study. 
In many colleges there is a Senior vacation of two weeks or more to allow 
for finishing theses and preparing for the festivities, which are an essential 
part of the modern College Commencement. In other colleges no examina- 
tions are required of Seniors after the spring term. The past record and the 
class-room work alone are counted toward a degree. In a college with so 
many elective courses the Senior vacation seems impracticable, but certainly 
the other plan could be carried out. With very little trouble the professors 
and instructors could plan to give the Seniors in their courses no extra work 
after May first, at the latest. If special topics are required it would be 
simple enough to arrange to have all the Seniors in the course present theirs 
before that date. If final papers are absolutely essential then subjects might 
be assigned to Seniors which could be completed by May 1st. Nor do I 


mean that that day shall be chosen by all departments as the appropriate 
time for papers. The professors say they are perfectly willing to have the 
papers come in early. They seem to forget that so many are required that 
the poor Senior cannot finish them all early. 

As a general rule if a girl is worthy of her diploma in June she will 
have demonstrated that fact by midyears of her Senior year. In three years 
and a half a student should certainly have shown the character of her work, 
and her class-room work considered in the light of her past record should 
be counted sufficient, without final papers and examinations. Of course 
there would, necessarily, have to be exceptions, but they should be rare. 
If her class-room work was not good enough to pass a student, then a paper 
or examination should be required. But the girls would willingly prepare 
the daily recitation if time were allowed for it in the spring term. Often 
there are so many papers required that preparing for one's daily recitations 
is out of the question. This rush at the last is not satisfactory to professor 
or student, since it is impossible to do scholarly work under so much 
pressure. It has seemed to me in years past, when I have seen how busy 
my Senior Mends always were, that each department was trying to get its 
last chance to wring a paper from the already tired Senior. Of course this 
is not the case, for some of the departments have been very considerate of 
the Seniors toward the last, but everyone will agree with me that it would be 
the greatest boon to be able to feel on May 1st that papers and examinations 
were behind, and the next six weeks were left open for the enjoyment of 
actually having time to prepare one's recitations without the element of rush, 
and to enjoy the last few precious weeks of one's college course. 

And they will agree with me too, I am sure, in saying that the excep- 
tions will be very few indeed of those girls who will not have honestly 
earned their diplomas in June, even though they have not spent their last 
weeks in grinding out papers and cramming for examinations. 


It is a matter of pride and gratification to every student to see the 
grounds and buildings in good order and carefully preserved. Every student, 
were she to think of it, would doubtless be willing to do anything in her 
power to secure college property from injury, and maintain as neat and orderly 


an appearance as possible ; but, unfortunately, we are all of us more or less 
thoughtless, and during these moments of abstraction, we commit actions 
of a careless nature, we would never think of doing if we exercised the re- 
straining influence of a moment's thought. 

Now that ink wells and bottles are placed beyond the possibility of 
doing violence to the public eye, a new danger threatens from the fountain 
pen. Prone to the imperfections common to all things, this instrument of 
penmanship often refuses to work freely, and a violent shake seems the only 
restorative, resulting in the appearance of a shower of ink. These spots, 
small as they may be compared to the generous overflow of the safety ink 
well, will, in the course of time, give the public floors a most unsightly 
appearance. Those who use the fountain pens should provide blotters to 
absorb any discharge of ink the peculiar construction of the pen seems to 
require, and should in every way see that careless and unsightly spattering 
of ink be prevented. 

While the subject is emphasized in this one instance, it might be well for 
us as students each to take upon herself the responsibility of self-restraint in 
general, and to check any personal tendency to scatter bits of paper thi-ough 
the corridors or general rooms, or to use pencils thoughtlessly in places where 
pencil marks are neither ornamental or educational. 

W., '95. 


In an article which appeared last month in the Free Press the writer 
spoke of the feeling of responsibility one ought to exercise in the use of 
money, and drew attention to one way in which students who are anxious for 
improvements in the college might use sums they could easily lay aside for 
that purpose. 

The suggestion in its general tone, as well as in the particular instance 
cited, seems a good one. Few of us realize how much it is possible for us 
to do with very little expense or trouble on our part, to increase the comfort 
and convenience of the facilities already at our command. The opening of 
two recitation rooms as places of rest and recreation for the use of the 
village students, affords a very practical opportunity for exercising any in- 
clination one may have to enhance the comfort and happiness of fellow- 
mortals. The donations of a few articles of use and ornament would do a 


great deal to convert these rooms into pleasant resting-places. Many of us 
could easily spare a pillow from the overcrowded couch, or leave for public 
perusal some interesting magazine or book of short sketches. Let us second 
the efforts made by the College to ameliorate the condition of the village 
student. C, '95. 


Only those who by the exigencies in the time and place of college ap- 
pointments are condemned to use the path from Music Hall to the Art Build- 
ing, know the miseries of its use. The unfortunates look with dismay on the 
advancing spring. Every night freezes the path and every morning waters 
it afresh. First, let us not be forgetful of the fact that two sloughs of 
despond have been bridged, those on either side of the road. But why was 
the good work not extended ? Between mud and slush the field in front of 
Music Hall is frequently impassable. What then are the alternatives of a 
member of the Faculty, or of a student, hurrying to an appointment. A 
trip to the Main Building of ten to fifteen minutes, or a cold from soaked 
feet, to say nothing of a bedraggled, unhappy appearance. A board walk 
across the field, at the edge if not in the center, and up the steepest part of 
the hill, would go far toward curing the evil. The failure of a petition 
signed both by members of the Faculty and by students, last year, to achieve 
a path, make the present writer doubtful of any good result, but she desires 
to enter her protest, having suffered for two years from present arrangements. 

H. D. 


Our Free Press seems this year to have become a sort of "growlery," 
wherein are entered all manner of criticisms and complaints, some of which 
might much better be made in private. Why not follow the suggestion made 
last spring, and set forth in its columns a few of the good things toward 
which we aspfre? We are all children, who, if continually nagged, and 
told not to do this thing or that, grow sullen, and stop trying to do anything. 

A criticism made three months ago still burns in my heart. The writer 
of the article on friendships between college women left with us all the feel- 
ing that, in the main, she considered such friendships as failures ; that she 
knew of few which she felt were strong and real enough to abide. 


True, there are certain dangers of which we must beware. One of these, as 
the writer said, is sentimentality. Two others, which seem to me even greater, 
are the danger from gossip and from too severe criticism of one another. 

A friend recently asked me, " Can you deny that college women gossip 
more than college men ? " I longed to say that I could, but when I thought 
of the amount of small-talk about people which was daily indulged in here, 
I could answer only, " I am afraid I cannot deny it." 

The second danger comes from unnecessarily severe criticisms of one 
another. I know that not infrequently one person is prevented from making 
further advances toward another who has attracted her, simply because of 
the severe criticism passed upon the stranger by some third person. It is 
true that we form a very critical community, and it is natural that it should 
be so. But it is neither kind, nor true, nor womanly, when we allow our- 
selves to utter a single adverse criticism upon any member of our community, 
unless some matter of right or wrong demands it. Let us be proud to be as 
magnanimous toward our fellow-students as our brothers are toward their 

But there are many among us who believe that despite sentimentality 
and gossip and criticism there exist here not a few ' ' David and Jonathan 
friendships." We know of friendships, and we know them because they are 
our own Krjjfia ati, that stand the strain of "good report and ill," a strain 
made necessary by the gossip and criticism that destroy all bonds except the 
true ; we know of friendships that are firm through doubt and misunderstand- 
ing ; we know of friendships that, out of characters that seemed weak, have 
developed strong, brave womanhood. There are, and have been, scores of 
friends in this College who do remember ' ' that true friendship means 
true, steady, calm, generous love." And in these friendships we are learn- 
ing to understand the greatest fact of life, — the very law of life, — that each 
fulfils her own life only through other lives, — that " he that loseth his life shall 
find it." 


"Waves of interest seem, at stated intervals, to flood the college world. 
Last month's elusive snowflake has given place to Cupid's fiery dart. Fair 
ladies and languishing youths appear in many a poem, tale, and farce, all of 


which are characterized by unusual languor and cynicism. We know not 
whether Saint Valentine is growing cold in these later days, or whether 
spring is fast nearing. 

The essays of the month, however, do not lack vigor. " Carlyle's Idea 
of Sincerity," in the Dartmouth Literary Monthly, shows careful, scholarly 
work, and has evidently been written by a lover of the rugged truth-teller. 
"A Study of a Friendship," in the Williams Literary Monthly, gives an in- 
teresting sketch of Dumas' four famous heroes. In an article on Thomas 
Bailey Aldrich, the Smith Monthly has given a just, but appreciative esti- 
mate of the modern story teller, ' ' who is always saying the wisest and most 
delightful things just as you are on the point of saying them yourself." Of 
essays not dealing with literary themes we would mention ' ' The Serious 
Side," in the Yale Literary Magazine, which treats in a serio-comic style of 
that side of undergraduate life not seen by the outside world. 

The three short stories which have most interested us, "A Fall from 
Grace," in the Williams Literary Monthly; "A Poet's Protegee," in the 
Vassar Miscellany; and "Nancy," in the Smith College Monthly, differ 
widely in character. The first shows skillful use of a bitter humor, of a 
dangerous irony ; the ' ' Poet's Protegee " is a strong, well-drawn character 
sketch; while "Nancy" simply and vividly tells of a little child's tragedy. 

The verse of the month not devoted to Saint Valentine is rather 
meager in quantity. We clip the following : — 


I lay upon the new-mown hay 

On a sultry day in the month of June ; 
The sky was blue, the birds sang sweet, 

And I looked at the midday moon. 

It was so light, it was so white, 

So spirit-like it floated by, 
It seemed a bit of cloud begot 

Out of a cloudless sky. 

O moon ! though I love thee at dead of night, 
When the shadows are blue and the fairies play, 

'Tis thy soul that I see in the sky at noon 
And I love thee most by day. 

— Smith College Monthly. 



The willows overhang the stream, 
And underneath their sober gleam, 

Like a dream, 
The river hurries on its way, 
And softly sings its mystic lay 
Amid the pebbles hard and gray ; 

Bright they seem. 

The grasses wave upon the bank ; 
Below, the reeds and osiers dank 

Dip and twine; 
The sun is near the western hill, 
And o'er the placid valley still 
There steals the creaking of the mill 

And breath of pine. 

The shadows brood above the scene, 
Caress the woods and meadows green, 

Dimly seen ; 
The whisper of the waters' flow 
Discloses secrets none may know, 
As bright its dancing ripples glow, 

Silver sheen. 

— Cornell Era. 


Out of the wreck and crumble of the Past, 

Its shattered shrines and images — mere drift 

Of time and space — the Present seems to lift 
A sphinx-like face, mysterious and vast, 
With doubts and dim foreshadows overcast, 

A face of strange, new impulses that shift, 

Like rush of storm-cloud, till from out the rift 
Of poet-insight flashes truth at last. 

Alone he stands, and sings upon the verge 
Of the far-whispering and sobbing sea; 

Not for the wreckage of the Past, a dirge, 
A triumph for what is, and is to be — 

The Modern Man, supreme amid the surge, 
And swirling eddies of Democracy. 

— Vassar Miscellany. 



Elizabethan Lyrics, Selected and Edited by Felix E. Schelling. Cloth, 
327 pp. The Athenaeum Press Series. Ginn & Company, Boston. 

The need of books which shall give, in a convenient and inexpensive 
form, the best of our English classics, has been felt more and more strongly 
as the study of English Literature has become systematized. To meet this 
need many so-called students' series have been published. Professor Pal- 
grave's ' ' Golden Treasury of Songs and Lyrics " has proved invaluable for 
class work. The collection just given to the public by Felix E. Schelling, 
Professor of English Literature in the University of Pennsylvania, is similar 
in plan, and is compiled by one who from his position should know the 
practical needs of the classroom. 

The collection covers the half century from 1576 to 1625. Of the 
poems of that period given in the "Golden Treasury," Professor Schel- 
ling's collection contains all except thirty-seven (nineteen of the thirty- 
seven being from Shakespeare and seven from Thomas Campion), while it 
has two hundred and thirteen not given by Palgrave. The purpose seems to 
be to render accessible especially some of the less-known poems of the six- 
teenth century, and this fact, together with the scholarly arrangement of the 
whole, gives the book a distinct value. The introduction gives (1) "an 
account of the Elizabethan lyric of art in its nature, origin, and different 
modes, with comment on the authors and the literary tendencies involved ;" 
and (2) "a consideration of the chief lyrical measures of the age from an 
organic, as well as an historical point of view." There are also ninety pages 
of notes containing explanatory and biographical information. 

The book is thoroughly and clearly indexed, and is published in neat 
and convenient form. 


Elizabethan Lyrics, by Felix E. Schelling. The Athenaeum Press 
Series. Ginn & Co., Boston. 

Stories of Old Greece, by Emma M. Firth. D. C. Heath & Co., Bos- 
ton. 30 cents. 



The February programme meeting of the Classical Society was held on 
Saturday, the twenty-third. The subject of the meeting was Demosthenes, 
and the following programme was given : — 

I. Demosthenes and the Olynthian Con- 
federacy ..... Ida Brooks. 
II. Translation from the First Olynthiac . Edith Dexter. 

III. Discussion of Politics at Athens in 

Demosthenes' time : , 

a. The Anti-Macedonian Party . Julia Randall. 

b. The Macedonian Influence . . Mary Chapin. 

IV. Translation from the First Philippic . Elizabeth Haynes. 

At the January programme meeting, Miss Florence Hastings, '97, and 
Miss Mattie Roberts, '97, were received into the society. 

A social meeting of the Classical Society was held on February 7, at 
Stone Hall. 

The regular meeting of the Phi Sigma Society was held on February 9, 
in Society Hall. The following programme was given : — 

The Decadent Movement .... Mary H. Holmes. 

Music . . ; 

Modern Epicureanism : A Study of Pater . Caroline Jacobus. 

Music ....... 

A Comparative Study of the Prose Poem in 

Russian, French, and English . . Frances Pullen. 

The regular meeting of the Agora was held Saturday, February 23. 
After the impromptu speeches, the following programme was presented. : — 

License ...... Belinda Bogardus, '96. 

The Boodler and the Boodle . . . May Young, '9 J r >. 

An informal discussion followed. 


A regular meeting of the Tau Zeta Epsilon was held in Tau Zeta Epsilon 
Hall, Saturday evening, February 23. The programme was as follows : — 

Influence of Foreign Art on English Art . Elfie Graff. 

Hogarth ....... Fannie Austin. 

Sir Joshua Reynolds : 

The man ..... Charlotte Goodrich. 

The artist ..... Bessie Gates. 

The contemporaries of Reynolds . . Alice Norcross. 

The regular meeting of Society Zeta Alpha was held in Society Hall, 
February 23. The new programme for the second semester — Truth and 
Fiction of American Life — was begun. The first meeting was devoted 
to New England with the following programme : — 

I. A Coaching Trip through New England, Kate Winthrop Nelson. 
II. Characteristics ..... Lucy Jane Freeman. 

III. Brook Farm and The Transcendental- 

ists ..... Margarette Purington. 

IV. A Gala Dress " dramatized " : 

Elizabeth Babcock . . . Clara L. Willis. 

Emily Babcock .... Emily H. Brown. 
Matilda Jennings . . . Augusta H. Blan chard. 


March 10. Rev. Edward C. Moore, of Providence. 

March 11. Lecture. Prof. Wm. M. Davis. 

March 17. Rev. Charles R. Brown, of Charlestown. 

March 18. Concert. 

March 23. Lecture. Prof. Moulton. 

March 24. Pres. G. W. Smith, of Hartford. 

March 25. Lecture. Professor Moulton. 

March 27, Term closes. 



The editorial board of the Magazine for the year 1895-96 has been 
chosen the past month from the Class of '96. The members of the new 
board are : Editor-in-Chief, Mary McLean ; Associate Editor, Josephine 
Batchelder; Literary Editors, May Woodin, Agnes Caldwell, Mary HefFeran, 
Annie Wilson ; Business Managers, Cora Stoddard, Annie Peaks. These 
editors begin their work with the April number of the Magazine. 

On Sunday, January 27, Rev. Mr. Fuller of Maiden preached in the 

On Wednesday evening, January 30, a reception was given at The 
Fiske, by Professor Whiting, in honor of Mrs. Joseph Cook. Many of the 
guests present were from outside the College. This was the first social 
gathering which has been held at the new cottage. 

A reception was given to the members of Phi Sigma, Wednesday even- 
ing, January 30, by Miss Lauderburn and Miss Hawley. The reception was 
held in Society Hall. 

The Day of Prayer for Colleges was observed here on Thursday, 
January 31. Prayer meetings were held in the morning by the various 
classes, as usual. The classes of '96 and '97 held their meeting together, 
and were addressed by Miss Coman. 

At eleven o'clock the usual service was held in the chapel. Rev. 
Amory Bradford, of Montclair, N. J., conducted the service, and gave a 
most helpful and interesting address. Mr. Bradford spoke again before the 
College in the evening. 

On Saturday evening, February 2, Professor Whiting entertained the 
students of the Physics department, in her private laboratory. After many 
curious and interesting things had been shown under microscopes, a large 
number of fine stereopticon views of the World's Fair were exhibited. 

Dr. A. E. Dunning, of Boston, preached in the chapel Sunday, Feb- 
ruary 3. On Sunday evening the monthly missionary meeting was held. 
Mrs. O. L. George addressed this meeting, telling of her work as a mission- 
ary in Burma, 



Prof. John Fiske, of Cambridge, lectured in the chapel Monday even- 
ing, February 4. His subject was "More Facts About the Boston Tea 

A concert was given by the Beethoven Society Saturday evening, Feb- 
ruary 9. The society was assisted by Miss Harriet A. Shaw, harpist. 

On Sunday, February 10, Rev. F. Mason North, of New York, preached 
in the chapel. 

On Monday, February 11, Mr. Hamilton Mabie lectured in the chapel. 
His subject was " The Art of Writing." 

Inkstands of all descriptions, including the safety inkstands, have been 
banished from class and lecture rooms. The dealers in fountain pens have 
had a thriving business at the College the past few weeks as a consequence of 
the decree against inkstands. 

A valentine party was given by the Juniors at Freeman to the members 
of the other classes who live in the house. This was held on the evening of 
St. Valentine's Day. 

The Constitutional History class held a session of the House of Com- 
mons in the gymnasium Saturday evening, February 16. The subject of 
discussion was the abolishment of the hereditary principle in legislature. 
The principal speakers were : 

Harcourt (L.), Derby 

Burns (Lab.), Battersea 

H. Beach (O), Bristol 

Healy (Nat.), Louth 

Chamberlain (L. U.), Birmingham 

Morley (L.), Newcastle 

Labouchere (P.), Northampton . 

Balfour (O), Manchester . 

Professor Merriam of Hartford preached on Sunday, February 17, in 
the college chapel. 

A concert was given Monday evening, February 18, by the students in 
the School of Music. 

t . C. Caryl. 
L. Brandt. 
M. G. Wilson. 
F. E. Austin. 
W. Augsbury. 
E. L. Jones. 
E. H. Young. 
P. L. Underwood. 


The Senior Class Social was held in the gymnasium Thursday evening, 
February .21. The class history for the Junior year was given at this time. 

Dr. McKenzie took charge of the Thursday evening prayer meeting, 
February 21. He gave a most interesting talk on the subject of Prayer. 

The concert by the Glee, Banjo, and Mandolin Clubs was given in the 
Chapel Friday evening, February 22. The concert was as successful and 
popular as ever. We were glad to welcome the Mandolin Club, which made 
its first appearance before the College on this occasion. The programme 
included vocal solos by Miss Cottle, Miss Ely, and Miss Hoyt. 

On Sunday, February 24, Professor Lyons, of Cambridge, preached in 
the college chapel. 

The lectures which have been given during February in the Saturday 
afternoon lecture course are as follows : February 2, a lecture on " Christina 
Rossetti," by Professor Bates. February 9, "The House of Lords," by 
Professor Kendall. February 16, " The Chicago Strike," Professor Coman, 
February 23, " The Drama of the Nineteenth Century," Mr. Baker. 

On Monday evening, February 25, Professor Cross, of the Institute of 
Technology, lectured in the chapel on "Musical Pitch." 


The Boston Branch of the A. C. A. held its last regular meeting Satur- 
day, February 16, at 2.30 p. m., in the Claflin Room of Boston University, 
12 Somerset Street. Programme : "The Relation of the Public Schools to 
Good Citizenship," Frank A. Hill, Secretary State Board of Education ; "The 
Physical Needs of the Boston Public Schools," R. C. Humphreys, retiring 
member Special Committee on Schoolhouses, and Dr. S. H. Durgin, Chair- 
man of the Board of Health. A meeting will be called in March to consider 
the need of University Extension in Boston and vicinity. Every college 
graduate should be interested in the welfare of our public schools, and also 
in University Extension. At present, the only manifestation of public spirit 
on the part of the Boston Branch as a whole (representing two hundred and 
eighty college graduates) is an annual contribution of $250 (raised with diffi- 
culty) for the Fellowship Fund of the General Association. In view of this 


deplorable fact, will not each member be present at the coming meetings, and 
also make a careful study of the subjects announced for consideration ? An 
intelligent decision may then be secured as to whether the Boston Branch of 
the A. C. A. should attempt to serve the community by undertaking definite 
work, either to better existing conditions in the Boston public schools, or to 
establish University Extension in Boston and vicinity. 

Miss Janet Davidson, '92, entertained the Eastern New York Branch of 
the Association of Collegiate Alumnre at her home, 216 Lancaster Street, 
Albany, N. Y., Saturday, January 26. The subject of the meeting was "Rem- 
iniscences of College Life." Bits of personal experience, and events peculiar 
to various colleges were described, and many college views and souvenirs of 
college days were shown. The Wellesley alumnre present were Miss Grace 
Perry, '81, Miss Grace Eastman, '91, Miss Linda Puffer, '91, Miss Florence 
Ellery, '89, Miss Myrtilla Avery, '91, Miss Henrietta St. Barbe Brooks, '91, 
Miss Emeline Bennett, '93, and Miss Nan Pond, '93. Among the alumna? 
present from other colleges were Mrs. Melville Dewey, Mrs. John Gillette, 
and Miss May Seymour, of Smith. 

A meeting of the Wellesley Club of New York was held Saturday, Feb. 
16, 1895, at the home of Miss Caroline E. Raven, 864 President Street, 
Brooklyn. After a short business meeting a pronunciation match was an- 
nounced, of which Miss Grace Andrews, '89, carried off the laurels in the 
shape of an imposing dictionary for future reference. The vagaries of mod- 
ern lexicographers formed a frequent topic of conversation with the less- 
favored members of the club over the cups of tea and chocolate that arrived 
in time to cheer their drooping spirits. Miss Louise Manning Hodgkins was 
a welcome guest of the afternoon. 

Mrs. Alice Freeman Palmer has resigned her position in the University 
of Chicago. She and Professor Palmer will travel in Europe. 

Mrs. Louise Boies Sharpe, '84, is in Worcester, Mass. Mr. Sharpe is 
studying at Clark University. 

Miss Florence Bigelow, '84, and Miss Charlotte Conant, '84, received at 
Walnut Hills School, Natick, on February 2. 


Miss Jessie Van Vliet, '85, who received her second degree last year 
from the University of Michigan, has been teaching since February 1 in the 
Girls' High School, Brooklyn. Her address is 99 Macon Street. 

Mrs. Virginia Yeaman Remnitz, '83-86, with her little daughter, has 
been visiting Mrs. Annie Preston Bassett, '83-85, at her Brooklyn home. 

Miss Ada G. "Wing and Miss Kate L. Clarke, both of '86, spent a few 
days with Miss Nella G. Bobbins, '83-84, at Wellesley. 

Miss Elizabeth Wallace, '86, who has been, since its opening, in charge 
of Beecher Hall, University of Chicago, has been elected principal of the 
Knox College Seminary, Galesburg, 111. 

Miss Mary Martin Yardley, '90, is teaching Mathematics in Rowland 
Hall, the Church School of Utah. Miss Yardley's address is 955 Logan 
Avenue, Salt Lake City, Utah. 

Miss Emily I. D. Meader and Miss Elizabeth Hoyt, both of '91, spent 
the Day of Prayer at the College. 

Miss Henrietta Chase, formerly of '92, who is teaching at Santa Rosa, 
Cal., visited Miss Emily Briggs, '92, Pasadena, Cal., during Christmas vaca- 

Miss Flora Luther, '90-92, visited Miss May Patterson, '92, during 
Christmas vacation. 

Miss Grace Underwood, '92, spent Sunday, February 17, at College. 

Miss Kate Morgan Ward, '92, has received one of the two foreign 
fellowships offered by the Woman's Education Association of Boston. 

Miss Grace Mix, '90-92, spent February 22 with Miss Alice Reed, '93, 
in Roxbury. 

Misses Katherine Holley and Bettie Keith, both of '93, are at home, 
Selma, Ala. 

Miss Anna Knapp, formerly '93, has been visiting in Syracuse, N. Y., 
East Orange, N. J., and Brooklyn, N. Y. 

Miss Alice Mae Reed, '93, visited the College February 21. Miss Reed 
is teaching in the Xatick (Mass.) High School. 

Miss Mary Tooker, '93, was at the College, February 14. 


Miss Helen Eager, '93, from Fiske Teacher's Agency, held office hours 
at College, February 13. 

Miss Mary Hazard, formerly of '93, has been giving a course of psychol- 
ogy lectures to Miss Symond's training class for kindergartners. 

The address of Miss Mary Brigham Hill, '93, is 421 Marlborough Street, 

Miss Katherine May Winton, '93, sailed February 6, on the Friesland, 
for a two months' cruise on the Mediterranean. She will visit Spain, Africa, 
Egypt, Palestine, Constantinople, Greece, Italy, Paris and London. 

Miss Fanny H. Boltwood, a member of the class of '93, has removed 
from New Haven, Conn., to 65 Morris Avenue, Grand Rapids, Michigan. 

Miss Cora Bond, Special, '91-93, is editing the society column of the 
Cincinnati Times-Star. 

Mrs. Junius W. Hill, Class Mother of '93, recently gave a reception to 
the members of '93 who are in and near Boston. 

Miss Elva C. Coulter, '94, is teaching in St. Gabriel's School, Peekskill, 
N. Y. 

Miss Mary W. Marvell and Miss Eleanor Chace, both of '94, spent 
Sunday, February 17, at College. 

On February 22 Miss Laughlin and Miss Tobey, of the Class of '94, 
and Miss Maud Thompson, formerly of the same class, gave a tea at the 
College to the members of the Agora. Miss Ruth Hibbard, '94, was among 
the guests. 

Miss Frances Lucas, '93, has recovered from her accident of last fall, 
and is teaching at her home, Wooster, Ohio. 

Miss Josephine Simrall, '93, is doing fine kindergarten work in Cincin- 
nati, Ohio. 


Denison House wishes to send belated but most hearty thanks to 
Wellesley for the Christmas contribution of one hundred dolls. They were 
distributed at the Christmas parties, and were highly appreciated by the 
little people who received them. 


During the month of February Denison House had eight residents, its 
full number, every room being occupied. At present, however, there are 
but three who expect to stay more than three months. Permanent residents 
are the great need of this as of other College Settlements. 

Miss Coman's paper on the Chicago strike was listened to with much in- 
terest by the Social Science Club, on Monday, February 11. Miss Coman 
herself was unable to be present, but the paper was read by Rev. Mr. Brent, 
of St. Stephen's Church, Boston. A general discussion on the subject of the 
Chicago and Haverhill strikes followed. 

A Mothers' Club has been recently started by Denison House at the 
Hudson Street Kindergarten rooms. There were twenty mothers at the first 

Denison House sends many thanks to the Wellesley Banjo Club for their 
services on Thursday evening, February 14. The music was much enjoyed, 
and many regrets were expressed that the club was obliged to leave so early. 


The month that brought both Saint Valentine's Day and Washington's 
Birthday, gave the young people fine opportunities for additional festivities. 
On Saint Valentine's Day the A. O. V. Sr. gave a true Valentine's party to 
the A. O. V. Jr., a club made up of the younger sisters and friends of the 
older girls. Washington's Birthday is particularly dear to the hearts of all 
the children, ardent admirers as they are of America's hero. The kinder- 
garten little ones entered into their celebration most heartily. The children, 
each wearing a soldier's cap, and gallantly waving a flag, marched to the 
music of our patriotic songs, while their mammas looked on admiringly. 
The Rosebuds, tiny maidens of nine and ten, gave a Martha Washington 
party to their mothers. The small people in their caps and kerchiefs made 
dainty pictures as they danced a would-be stately minuet, or flitted about, 
eagerly serving each mother with chocolate and cake. The memorable day 
ended with the blare of trumpets, jingle of bells, and all possible sounds of 
revelry, for the A. O. V. Jr. entertained the Keystones with a kinder sym- 
phony. The bi-monthly conferences of New York Settlement workers are 
scenes of ardent discussion and argument ; and though few conclusions are 


reached, every worker feels the value of coming into sympathetic touch with 
others who are facing similar difficulties, and attempting to solve like 
problems. At the last meeting the discussion was upon the much-debated 
subject, "The Settlement as a Centre for Sociological Study." The 
subject of the next conference is to be, " The Religious Attitude of the 
Settlement Worker." 

Miss Carol M. Dresser, '90, sailed for Naples, Saturday, February 16, 
on the Normania. She expects to be abroad for three months, and will spend 
the time in Italy, Germany, France, and England. On her return she will 
be at the New York Settlement for a few weeks. 


Fishee-Adams. — At Chautauqua, N. Y., August 20, 1894, by Rev. 
Bishop Vincent, Miss Gertrude F. Adams, '82, to Mr. James Fisher, of 
Winnipeg, member of the Manitoba Legislature. 

Steele-Hadley. — Miss Maude Hadley, Special, '84, to Mr. Edmund 
D. Steele. 

Semans-Reed. — In Portsmouth, Ohio, Jan. 22, 1895, Miss Sallie Reed, 
'91, to Dr. Edward Merrick Semans. At home Wednesdays in February, 
59 South Liberty Street, Delaware, Ohio. 

Stanley-Pope. — At "Grand View," East Cleveland, Ohio, Feb. 5, 
1895, Miss Helen L. Pope, '92 and '93, to Mr. Charles Henry Stanley. 
They sailed on " The Normania" for Genoa, February 16. 

Baldkidge-Boakmax. — On Thursday, Jan. 31, 1895, Miss Alice Boar- 
man, '96, to Dr. Felix Edgar Baldridge. 


In Wellesley Hills, Mass., Feb. 22, 1895, Mr. B. F. Parker, father of 
Miss Laura Parker, '87, and Mrs. Marion Parker Perrin, '91. 

At Plymouth, Mass., Feb. 23, 1895, the father of Miss Mary H. 
Holmes, 94. 

At Wellesley, Jan. 26, 1895, Mrs. Lydia T. Caswell. 


Jameson & Knowles Company, 


Boots, Shoes, and 

Specialties: Custom Work, Party Shoes 


No. 15 Winter Street, Boston, 
U. S. A. 


Stationers & Engravers 


20 per cent Discount 


Made by Wellesley College Students. 

No. 3 Beacon Street, 


UR attention is called to our stock of 

Gold and Silver Stick Pins ! 
Birthday Gifts ! 

Souvenir Spoons, Souvenir Cups, 
Hair Ornaments. 

Toilet and Desk Furnishings in Sterling and Plated Silver; Marble and Iron Clocks, $6.00 to $20.00. 

Stock in all departments always complete. 

A. StOWell & Co., 24 Winter Street, Boston. 

Cotrell & Leonard 

New York, 

Makers of 

Caps and 

To the 

American . . 

Illustrated . . . 

Catalogue and 
O Particulars on 
Appl cation. 

Artists' Materials . . . 

£k Drafting Instruments. 
Art Studies and Books. 

Oil and Water Colors, Crayons, Materials 
For Tapestry, Painting, etc. 

Wadsworth, Howland & Co. 

82 and 84 Washington Street, Boston. 

Branch Store in the 

Grundmann Studios, Clarendon Street, 

Near St. James Avenue. 
Principal Factories 

Maiden, Mass., and Paris, Maine. 



Mackintoshes and Cravenettes, 

$2.00 TO $25. OO. 

IHellesley Preparatory, 


Prices 25 per cent lower than Dry Goods Stores. 
... Special IO per cent to Wellesley Students ... 


Metropolitan Rubber Co., 



Miss Charlotte H. Conant, B.A. 
Miss Florence Bigelow, M.A. 

Gloves and Veiling. 



Calls the attention of the Young Ladies to her stock of Kid, Undressed Kid, and Dog Skin Gloves that 

are suitable for all occasions, also her very becoming stock of Veilings, and solicits their 

patronage, and will give to any of the students 6 per cent discount. 

Hotel Bellevue, 




Manufacturers of First-class 


Special attention given to Club Dinners and Receptions. 




Inferior Decorations, 

Nos. 38 to 48 Corn hill, 



C1IAS. P. DVEK. * • • UUJ1UM. 



in all Departments 
of Literature 

can be found at our store. The largest 
assortment in Boston of the popular and 
standard authors. Also a large variety 
at special reductions. Large variety of 
Bibles, Prayer Books, Booklets, etc. 

We are noted for low prices. 


The Archway Bookstore, 

361 «f> 365 WASHINGTON ST.. BOSTON. 

Shreve. Crump I Low Go. 

Jewelers * Siiveriitfls, 


Fine Stationery. Card Engraving. 

Programs and Invitations, both printed and 
engraved. Class Day Progams a specialty. 

Class Pins designed and manufactured to 

Parasols and Umbrellas made to order, re- 
covered and repaired. 


. .ONLY. . 

First Glass TKroupf) Gar Route 


Through Trains Leave Boston as follows: — 
8.30 a. m. (ex. Sunday) Day Express. 
10.30 a. m. (daily) Chicago Special. 
2.00 p. m. (daily) North Shore Limited. 
3.00 p. m. (ex. Sundays) St. Louis and 

Chicago Express. 
7.15 p. m. (daily) Pacific Express. 


Hartford, New Havens New York. 


9.00 a. m. 
11.00 a. m. 

4.00 p. m. 
11.00 p. m. 

(ex. Sunday) 
(ex. Sunday) 


3.30 p. m. 

5.30 p. m. 

10.00 p. m. 

6.41 a. m. 

For tickets, information, time-tables, etc. 
to nearest ticket asrent. 



General Passenger Agent. 



New Tennis Catalogue is free; now ready, and will 
be sent to any address. 

Our General Athletic Catalogue will be issued 
April i st. 

Special rates to Wellesley Students. 


No. 344 Washington Street, 

(Near Milk), 

■HEAiny e. haskell 

11 John Street, New tjork, 

Designer and Maker 

Society Badges, 
Fraternity Pins, 
Rings, Emblem 
Jewels of every 

MEDALS — Trophies for presentation, from original 
and artistic designs. Special designs, with esti- 
mates, furnished on application. Inquiries by 
mail promptly attended to. We send design 
plates FREE upon request. 

Wellesley Pins can be obtained from Miss Eliz= 
abeth Stark, Business Manager of Magazine. 

The Dana Hall School, 


Pupils are prepared for regular or for special courses at 
Wellesley College. 

Price for Board and Tuition, $500 for the school year; 
Tuition for day pupils. $125. 

For further information address the Principals: 

Julia A. Eastman, 
Sarah P. Eastman. 

WleUesle^ [pharmacy 




Trunks and Bags, 

Pure Drugs and Medicines. 


No. 22 Chauncy Street, 

Physicians' Prescriptions a Specialty. 





Has been pronounced 

But for the activity enforced upon us by our 
patrons, this would be correct. We hope 
all will call to see what elegant effects can 
be obtained with Crepe Paper in decorating. 


No. 28 Franklin Street, Boston. 

For Fine Millinery 

Visit . . . 


No. 21 Temple Place, 


-v XP ; KENISa : N')' 



In-growing NMLS.socT5;MANicuRiN&,75tT5 

plaster for tender feet, 25cts. 

Ladies 1 and Gentlemen's rooms 

entirely separate. 


The Senior Class Photographer 

is . . . 

Charles W. Hearn, 

No. 392 Boylston Street, 
Boston, mass. 

Arrange dates with the Senior Class Photograph 
Committee : 

Miss Bertha Morrill. 
Miss Caroline Jacobus. 
Miss Sophie Voorhees. 

Also Photographer to 

Amherst College 
Dartmouth College 
Mt. Holyoke College . 
B. U. College of Liberal A 
Lasell Seminary 
Wesleyan University 
Etc., etc. 






The Stand ard for All. 


Highest Quality of All. 

Have you feasted your eyes upon 
the beauty and grace of the 1895 
Columbias ? Have you tested and 
compared them with all others ? 
Only by such testing can you know 
how fully the Columbia justifies its 
proud title of the "Standard for the 
World." Any model or equipment 
your taste may require, $]QQ 




New York, 
San Francisco, 

An Art Catalogue of these 
famous wheels and of Hart- 
fords, $80 $60, freeat Colum- 
bia agencies, or mailed for 
two 2-cent stamps. 





Leonard N. Howe, D.M.D. 


Corner Boylston and Tremont Streets, 


Late Instructor of Operative and Surgical 
Dentistry in Harvard University. 

Office Hours, 9 A. M. to S P. M. 


Oculists' prescriptions correctly filled. 
Glasses carefully fitted and adjusted to 
insure nose comfort. 

Ten per cent discount to 
Wellesley Students. 

All kinds of spectacle repairing neatly executed. 
References given. 

CHARLES W. HURLL, Jr., Practical Optician, 

409 Washington St., (between Winter and Bromfield Sts.) 

•••Kine Carpets- •• 

the finest line of specialties in 

ever offered by us. these are all our patterns, with a full line 
of the famous london furnisher, 

William Morris's Patterns in Carpets and Hammersmith Rugs. 

We feel that our Fall Stock will bear fhe Closest Inspection. 

Joel Goldthwait & Company, 

Nos. 163 to 169 Washington Street, Boston. 


Muslin Underwear, Equipoise Waists, 
Ribbons and Laces. 


J. B. LEA/VVY, Walcott Building;, NATICK, fUSS. 




Session '94~'95 opens October i, 1894. Four years, Graded Course. Instruction 
by Lectures, Clinics, Recitations and practical work, under supervision in Laboratories 
and Dispensary of College, and in U. S. Infirmary. Clinics and operations in most of 
the City Hospitals and Dispensaries open to Women Students. 

For Catalogues, etc., address 


321 East 15th Street, New York. 


She : When we got our wheels last year we didn't suppose 
there could be any better ones, did we? 

He : No ; but the '95's are ahead of them. They are 
lighter, and at the 6ame time stronger, because of the new 
nickel-steel tubing. 

She : The saddles are more comfortable than ever before. 

He : Yes, and the wheels are safer, too. The guards, 
rubber pedals, foot rests, and brake work make them models 
for safety and comfort. 

She : And is it true that the price has been reduced when 
the wheels are so much improved ? 

He: Yes; the company has established the standard 
price at $100, which must insure a tremendous increase in 
the number used. 



Free Instruction to purchasers. n/pr r ccr p v mi t vnu 

All orders promptly executed. W&LLhbLl [Y LULLJUiJS, 

Catalogues free on application. 

f If l&mpj 1 y°v 1 

Of fHwwf /We 






In every department of our store we allow Wellesley 

Professors and Students a discount, 

generally 10 per cent. 

During the year you will notice many attractive goods which your friends at home 
would be glad to see. We shall be glad to send samples at your request. 

Dress Goods, Hosiery, Neckwear, Millinery, 
Underwear and Art Embroideries 

are perhaps some of the departments most interesting to students, but the discount applies 
to every department. 


Tremont Street and Temple Place - - BOSTON, MASS. 

Formerly Designer for Celeste. 




In Attractive and Exclusive Designs specially 

adapted for young ladies, and not to 

be found elsewhere. 

SHAPES, constantly received and at 


ALLAND, 112 Tremont Street, 

Under Studio Building, Boston. 

146 Tremont Street, Boston. 

Branch of 

863 Broadway, N. Y. 

Pure, Fresfci, and Delicious 


A Choice Selection of Fancy Baskets, 
Boxes, and Bonbonnieres constantly 
on hand at very reasonable prices. . . 

Mail Orders given Prompt Attention. 

Frank Wood, Printer, Boston.